


Downfall

by Kroux



Series: Bright's Saving Grace [3]
Category: Demonheart (Visual Novel), Neverwinter Nights
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Violence, Disturbing Themes, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:53:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 100,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23002396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kroux/pseuds/Kroux
Summary: Bright, Brash and a group of soldiers venture out on their mission. A mission to stop the forest witch, Rivera. Truths become uncovered.[If interested in smut only, head to (spoiler spoiler spoiler) chapter thirteen and bottom third of twenty-two (spoiler spoiler spoiler)!]
Relationships: Sir Brash/Bright (Demonheart)
Series: Bright's Saving Grace [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637185
Comments: 41
Kudos: 43





	1. Hope's Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation right after leaving camp takes place. Bright's hope grows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 of Bright's Saving Grace begins here! I recommend reading the other parts first!

The road is long. It extends infinitely towards the horizon. Trees surround it on the sides. Thick forests. Me, Jasper and Tounnes stay about fifteen feet away from Brash and Garrosh, while the two lead us. Brash made it very clear we're not to approach them unless called. I suppose it's mostly because of me. Brash doesn't even look at me when he's addressing us. Pretending I don't exist.

If it weren't for the calming power of the amulet, I'd have broken down ages ago. I keep clutching it in one hand, completely relying on it. Brash said to forget what happened. As if I even remember. I guess that means he does. And those two broken jugs.. probably his work. Something honestly angered him about what happened between us. I just wish I knew, what it was.

Jasper and Tounnes both walk to my left side. They keep talking about things. I don't even listen to them half the time, I just look at Brash's back. His pearl white cloak moves around so regally, even though his own movements are heavy and robust.

_I need to stop staring._

But I can't. The things he said. Those horrible, ruthless things. He's never been so vicious with me before. Whatever he used to call me, this time he didn't hold back. Brash found the perfect things to say to completely demolish me.  


_**"** You know, I think I could try to restore your memory through the amulet."_

My eyes shout out in surprise and I clutch the amulet even tighter.

_Really? Could a spell do that for me?_

A condescending snicker. _**"** There are very few things spells can't do. I have not had practice with this one, yet, but I can attempt it, if you wish."_

  
Do I really want to know what happened that night? I have the benefit of blissful ignorance at the moment. I can just despise him for what he said. Hate him and never think about him in an affectionate way again. Maybe I should? Maybe that would be for the best?

_  
Maybe.. later. I've got too many things on my mind. This would make things worse, at least right now._

_**"** ..Very well."_

  
I need to focus on the mission. Thinking back to what I was told about it, we are all to infiltrate the witch's den and slay her. But we barely know anything about her. Only us six- _Uh.. Where is the second Scarcewaller?_ Mark said there will be two Scarcewall soldiers. Not one.

I turn my head to the left, still clutching the amulet. "Jasper, do you know why we don't have two Scarcewall soldiers with us? I thought that was the plan."

He puts an inquisitive look on. "You don't know? I thought it was because of something you did?"

My eyebrows fly up. "Me? What did I do?" I notice Brash's head shake as he clutches his fists. His steps also seem to grow heavier.

"Well, I'm not quite sure to be honest. Someone said you got into a fight with him. His entire face was destroyed - nose and jaw broken, one eye needed to be stitched."

I stare at him in disbelief. _Did I do that?! I don't remember even talking to a Scarcewaller._ "Really? Gods. I can't recall any of it. Is he okay? I mean, apart from the injuries."

Jasper chuckles lightly, "He's alright, he said he deserved it. And that he's an idiot when he gets drunk. He even laughed about it a little."

Garrosh turns to Jasper and angrily exclaims, "Yeah, because we're not pussies like you three."

  
The first thing we hear from him, and it's something like that. How fitting for a Scarcewall soldier. Or a Scarcewaller in general. _Ghh._ Fucking Brash. The amulet is isolating my sorrow and desperation, leaving me only with anger. Anger as intense as my sadness. 

I bark out in retaliation, "Really? Not pussies? Then I guess you better keep your face front and sniff, dog."

Jasper and Tounnes are stupefied by my behaviour. After a moment, they grimace in admiration. Garrosh did **not** like my comment, though. He swiftly turns his whole body around and heads towards me. I am not dropping the amulet, so I only reach for my dagger with my right hand.

"Give me the excuse, whore." He reaches for his sword. 

If only the amulet weren't so effective at keeping my reasoning at bay. If only. Now I am the embodiment of anger and recklessness. I don't care what happens to me anymore. Life seems miserable and pointless. Like a part of me was torn right out.

"Come, then. Or what, are you going to wait for an order? I thought you weren't a pussy."

Garrosh's face twists in fury as he pulls the sword out and approaches me quickly. I ready my guard, even if it's in the opposite hand.

"What the **fuck** are you two doing?! Fall back into position!" Brash yells at us, as me and Garrosh stare each other down. But this is not a battle he can win. His commander called him back. He has to obey. It's been imprinted into him.

And he does. Sheathing his sword, he spits on the ground and walks back. "..Good doggy," I say at him. He stops, clutches the handle of his sword tightly, but continues going.

  
We all begin walking again. Eerie silence falls. Jasper only pats me on the shoulder in approval. As if what I did meant anything. I only lashed out at him because I wanted to lash out at Brash.

After about three hours of painful, torturous walking, Brash stops the group. Pointing towards an abandoned campsite, he says, "We rest for a while, then continue until sundown." Approaching it, me and Jasper sit down on the ground. Tounnes walks around, examining the area with curiosity. Garrosh also drops down, but he doesn't really relax. Always combat ready. And Brash doesn't even sit down. He only stands next to a tree, leaning his back on it. 

Something about that image makes my body tremble. Brash leaning on a tree. I shake my head. _Whatever, I guess._ Using the moment of calmness, I decide to brush my hair. I haven't done it since yesterday. Of course, this means letting the amulet go from my hold. But.. I believe I can do it. I can handle it.

Reaching into my bag, I pull out the mirror and the brush. The regal braid somewhat survived, but it's not looking very prestigious anymore. Undoing the braid, I let my hair fall down. Next, I take the brush and press it into my hair. Long, powerful strokes. My anger drops from me. Sorrow slowly returns.

I notice Brash watching me with interest. Staring right at me as I brush my hair. I stop and stare at him back. He lowers his gaze, shakes his head and buries his face in his hands. _What the hells.._ Finishing brushing my hair, I put a ribbon in it and tie it into a simple ponytail. Moving my head around, I check its sturdiness. _All good_.

  
"Hey, you want to spar?" Garrosh suddenly asks in our direction. It's not targeted at me, though. Rather, he's daring Jasper. He eyes him curiously before answering, "You **do** know that in sparring, there is supposed to be no intention of hurting the other person, right?"

Garrosh laughs and says, "Where's the fun in that?"

Jasper frowns, but responds with: "Alright, let's see, then," and he gets up from the ground. Garrosh soon follows. Brash eyes them for a second but doesn't care to stop them.

The two begin fighting. Sounds of swords colliding surround us, ringing through the campsite. If only I had the interest to watch. Not holding the amulet brings a lot of feelings back. I can only manage to look at Brash. How I wish I could just get up and stand near him. Or even just talk to him. I have to reach for the amulet again, my eyes started getting watery. A soft sensation sounds through my body. I let the amulet go again. _Better_.

Garrosh seems to be victorious as Jasper falls to the ground. "Hell yeah! Scarcewall beats Feline any day!" Jasper gets up and returns to sitting next to me. "You're a skilled soldier, Garrosh."

  
"..Any day, huh?" Brash wakes up from his train of thoughts. "Then fight the cat girl. I'll bet my fucking sword she beats you." 

I throw him a stunned look. _I can't believe what he's saying. Why would he even..._

Jasper gasps and pleads with Brash, "Sir, surely you cannot-"

Brash cuts him off with a murderous look, "Nobody fucking asked **you**."

Looking at Brash expectantly, I say, "I remember someone telling me I'm worthless. Meaningless. A waste of space. What happened to that?"

 _How can he go from calling me all that, to saying I'd beat a Scarcewall soldier?_ Can he be honest with me for once? Without saying he made it all up afterwards? I clutch the amulet for one more moment before letting it go.

"Only a fucking brain-dead moron would say that. I should beat the shit out of them for it. Now, get up and fight Garrosh," he growls and continues glaring at me.

His words send so many different feelings. _Is he.. honestly saying he meant none of it? Or is this only one of his temporary changes of character?_ I don't mind fighting Garrosh either way. If this gets more out of Brash, then even better.

I get up, now also pulling out my shortsword. I don't need the amulet anymore, it seems. Brash's words fill me with the reassurance I was longing for. Taking a guard stance, I prepare for what Garrosh can throw my way. 

He grins viciously, "Now you'll pay for what you said, cunt!"

I grin right back, "Don't trip on your leash."

Nobody is stronger than Brash. If I could keep up with him for a short while, I can definitely beat Garrosh. But I may have to use my speed if he is too strong. Perhaps I could attribute it to the amulet if they ask?

Doesn't matter. Brash believes I can do it. He'd bet his sword for me. Even if I have a desire to fail on purpose, just to see what he would do, I can't.

  
Garrosh charges. I dodge effortlessly.

His attacks are powerful but too slow.

More attacks. Easy dodges. 

Garrosh is getting infuriated at his not getting a hit in. 

I only wait for a powerful attack, the same way I did with Brash before. I almost got him that time.

Attack after attack. Dodge after dodge. There isn't even the need for me to deflect anything, yet.

Garrosh reaches the peak of his anger and swings with everything he has.

A massive swing. Aimed to my hips.

I smile.

Dropping down as fast as I can, I bend at the knees and trip one of his legs.

His awareness and skill are nothing compared to Brash's.

He falls down and I remain victorious.  
  


Cheerful clapping comes from behind me. Jasper is obviously impressed. Garrosh only glares at me from the ground. Having lost to me infuriates him to no end.

"Thanks for the sparring," I say to Garrosh, but look at Brash instead, expecting his words. A reaction. Nothing. He looks into my eyes for a while, but then returns one of his hands to his face. Dropping my gaze to the ground dejectedly, I walk back to where I was sitting before.  
  


"Bright! That was.. incredible! How did you even do that?" Jasper asks with amazement crawling all over his face.

I sigh. "I learned from the best."

Jasper nods, "Your skill is remarkable. Maybe we could train together one day.. After the mission-"

"Stop trying to fuck her right in front of us, fuck's sake," Brash interrupts him. His tone sounds irritated.

I smirk lightly. _He can't even listen to Jasper's efforts._ Seeing his reaction offers a calming feeling. If he didn't care at all, if I were 'meaningless', he wouldn't say a word. He wouldn't say anything at all. 

"I'm sorry Jasper, but we fight in a completely different style. I don't think training together would be very beneficial. Plus.." I grin cheekily, "I'd just wipe the floor with you," and I follow with a playful laugh.

Jasper's mood decays for a moment. "I suppose you're right, Bright."

And we're back to silence. After a few more minutes of rest, which Garrosh spends sulking like a child, Brash throws himself off of the tree and says, "Let's fucking go." Him and Garrosh leave the area immediately, we follow as quickly as possible. Still keeping the previous distance from them.  
  


_Hey, Raze.. Do you think you could try the memory restoration spell? I need to know what happened. It's.. important I know._

A pause.

_**"** Very well. Hold the amulet and wait."_

I put my hand on the gem again and await the spell.

Watching Brash's back, I stare at his cloak longingly. So warm and soft. I'd love to just wrap myself into it and sleep. If only we-

A flood of sensations powers through my mind.  
  


"Come here."

"Interesting rumour."

"Threw the bow?"

"Depends on the people."

"Still look good."

"How. Dare. You."

"Nobody will do that."

"Too good to be true."

"Was it enough?"

"Brash."

"Bright."

"I wanted this for so long."

"Do you trust me?"

"Completely."

  
A total recollection of events. All the events I couldn't remember. All the things that happened. All of the emotions we shared out that night. All the confessions. That tree. Its significance is clear.

I nearly fall over to the ground. The entire evening comes over me at once. All of the feelings happen at the same time. _Oh Gods. Fuck. I.._ How could have I forgotten something as crucial as our kiss? That was the most important moment of my entire life. The most beautiful, precious one. The only real moment of my whole existence.

Jasper holds me up from my nearly passing out. "What's wrong?"

I focus my entire being on standing upright and walking again, as to not alert our frontline. "Nothing. Everything is.. how it's supposed to be. I only tripped." I offer Jasper a polite smile. He frowns worriedly and reluctantly lets me go.

There is no more need for the amulet's warmth. Remembering what happened.. it calms all stress. A deafening peace. Nothing Brash said in the morning matters. I should know him well enough by now to see when he's pushing himself.

We walk further along the path. Hoping for a moment alone with him, I wish us to discover shelter soon. It seems I finally have things to say to Brash. Last night we embraced each other so openly and fully. That kind of a thing doesn't vanish over night, even if we were both disoriented.

He obviously remembers everything. 

Now I do, too.

And I never want to forget again.  
  



	2. Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road, the group gets ambushed by worgs. Even after finding shelter, Bright isn't safe from her enemies.

The pain of having walked for most of the day is definitely crawling up on me. My feet are on fire. I can't even imagine what the others feel like - their armor is much thicker and heavier than mine.

Not wanting to stay idle during our journey, I play with the weapons in my hands. Twisting the handles back and forth, getting used to changing their position swiftly. They slipped from my grasp only a few times... Okay, maybe more than just a few. The road is long, after all. Long and tiresome. But I am getting the hang of it. It also keeps my mind from going crazy with thoughts.

All the things Brash said earlier. So much hope flooded my body. I am still fully aware of how easily he can shut me right back down. I desperately need to find out what his issue is. Why is it such a bad thing to feel anything? It's almost as if he's.. afraid of something.

"Convict girl, describe to me what witchery you practised. Control? Support?" Tounnes asks. His question only raises more questions.

"What does any of that even mean? We never practised magic. I was simply an assistant, not an apprentice," I respond matter-of-factly.

He throws me an accusative look. "You obviously used some ability. I saw your inhuman movements during the sparring. You cannot fool me, witch."

_  
Uh-oh.  
  
_

I tense my stomach and attempt to sound convincing, "It's because.. of my amulet. It's enchanted. Orchid gave-" I can't even finish my sentence. 

Tounnes jumps over to me and stops me in my tracks. Shocked by his movements, I hover my palms over my weapons. His hand immediately flies up to the amulet. As his fingers touch the gem, his eyes flash in fear. "Demonic amulet!" he whispers. And just as fast as he appeared in front of me, he jumps back into his previous position. _Okay, that's.. normal._

Dropping my arms down again, I say, "R-right. I doubt it's demonic, though. It's merely enchanted."

He shakes his head, eyes still screaming fright. "Its power cannot be hidden. Neither can yours. Now I know what you truly are, demon."

I stop blinking. _He knows? He can feel my power? Who the hells is he?_

"Tounnes! Drop it already! How can you keep being so bluntly rude to Bright? I don't understand your behaviour," Jasper yells out at Tounnes. It's true, Tounnes has been accusing me a lot and quite often. But these two are the best of friends, as far as I know. Yet, he seems willing to argue with him over the comments spoken about me.

_Oh no, Jasper really has it going for me, huh? This only complicates things.  
_

"I am merely describing what I see, Jasper. You don't have to understand or believe my words," Tounnes responds emotionlessly.

"You're impossible! Stop with your-"  
  


A roar interrupts the argument.

  
Every one of us stiffens, looking around for its source. It's getting late, though. Nearly evening. Shadows grow thicker, preventing us from gaining full information of our surroundings. The trees also seem denser than before.

Another roar. And another. Multiple ones at the same time. 

"Worgs! Garr, right. Me, left. You three stay the fuck back, only the bow cunt attacks if necessary," Brash barks out orders. His entire posture tenses as he grips his greatsword, ready to swing at the incoming attackers. Garrosh does the same. They're both fully prepared.

Us three, not so much. Tounnes is ready with his bow, but me and Jasper were ordered not to do anything. We still pull our weapons out, in case something appears behind us. I begin turning all around, spying through the trees, searching for enemies, guard ready.

Brash said it's worgs. I saw them before, they were all dead. So human-like, yet completely beastial.  
  


Two worgs appear close to Brash, another two are nearing Garrosh. Their eyes glow red with hunger. Their roars grow deeper and more threatening with each step they take. Even with my full attention focused on our surroundings, I can't see any others. Only these four.

_I have no clue how difficult to fight they are. I've never seen them in a fight before._

"We need to be ready to help them, if they can't manage. Whatever the orders are," I whisper to Jasper. He nods and grips his weapon tighter. Tounnes is already prepared with a nocked arrow.

One worg charges at Brash. It lunges forward with its sharp, long claws. Before it even reaches him, Brash has already impaled it completely on his sword. It's still moving. Still trying to claw at him. With his weapon somewhat stuck inside the worg, Brash charges with his right hand, straight towards its eyes. Repeatedly, until it stops flailing around. Pulling his sword out, the worg drops to the ground. It's **still** not dead, but there are other threats. This one is harmless, at least for the moment.

While Brash was fighting one, another one charged at Garrosh. He's having a much harder time dealing with it. Stabbing it repeatedly, exhausting himself by defending from its claws. In the end, he cuts both its arms in two, right at the elbow.

Another one charges at Brash and the last one at Garrosh. They defend themselves and, eventually, they kill the beasts. One of them is disfigured - split in half at its stomach. Another one's chest is completely open, the insides flowing out in a crimson waterfall.

 _This is so gruesome. I've never seen a fight before. Not a real one. Not one with true death involved._ My hands shake at the sight. Even if it's 'only' worgs, they look too similar to people in shape. And since I can't see very well, their dead bodies veiled in shadow resemble humans to a fault.

They start kicking the dead bodies, probably checking whether they're truly dead. One of the worgs recieves a final stab in its jaws from Brash. Him and Garrosh both sheath their weapons.  
  


"Good job, Garr. There will be more, this was still kid shit," Brash says with spite in his voice. He turns to us and motions us to follow, "We're moving."

As we near the dead bodies, I can see the full carnage in all of its adversity. Worgs' bodies torn open, organs spilling out, blood everywhere, dismembered parts lying forsaken next to their previous owners.

My whole body trembles. _I have no idea whether I'm even capable of killing something. Bold was different. I wasn't there when he died. Fighting worgs face to face is personal. I don't think I'm strong enough to watch something die by my hand. Watch as their spirit leaves their body._

I shut my eyes hard, rub them with my fingers and then open them again. _It's alright. Brash and Garrosh will protect us._

  
Slowly but surely, darkness engulfs our group. We don't progress much further down the path before we're stopped again. "There are a few openings in that hill," Brash says as he points somewhere to the left. I can see a silhouette of high-raised terrain, possibly rocky. It's hard to tell with barely any daylight left to offer a helping hand.

"We're done for the day. Follow me." Brash guides us towards the hill. The closer we get to it, the more visible its openings become. Three, somewhat separated, cave-like holes. I try to inspect what the inside looks like, but it's pitch black. _Hopefully no spiders occupy them... Ghhhh._ I shiver at the thought.

"To prevent her whoring, the slut sleeps alone in the first cave. Me and Garrosh sleep in the second. You two cunts can fuck each other in the third."

I cross my arms and shake my head. _Bastard_. Jasper and Tounnes seem to have the same reaction to his comment, but they make their way to the cave anyway. So does Garrosh. There's only a small window for me and Brash to talk, somewhat alone. I need to use it. He's heading towards his own sleeping area, his back turned to me.  
  


"Can we talk?" I ask him in a whisper.

He answers in a whisper, also. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Really? Nothing?"

Finally turning to me, he continues whispering angrily, "I told you to forget about everything. All of it was a drunk fucking mistake."

"No. I don't believe that."

He scoffs. "Believe whatever the fuck you want. Go to sleep, or I'll fucking knock you out myself," and he walks away hurriedly.  
  


I exhale. _That didn't go so well. Maybe another time, then. I will keep my hopes up, whatever happens._

  
Well, I'm done with the day. We walked for hours on end. My feet are on fire. Entering my cave quarters, I instantly get flashbacks of my prison cell. Stone everywhere. Darkness. Cold. Dirt. Desperation crawls through my spine.

I breathe in and out. In and out. 

_This is not my prison cell. I can leave whenever I want. It's all good. No iron door. No Bold. Ever again._

A few more deep breaths and.. I feel better.

I sit down on the ground, examining it with my hands. The details are impossible to determine with my eyes. The darkness only grows thicker and more menacing.

Another deep exhale. _I suppose I should just go to sleep. I can't see anything, so writing in my journal is pointless._

Like I've done so many times before in prison, I place my hands on the ground and put my head on them. A bony, uncomfortable pillow. Still better than just the ground. I'd rather not dirty my bag here. Using it as a pillow was alright before. After all, I had a bedroll. Now it's only dirt and dust.

Having shut my eyes, I slow down my breathing. Slowly falling asleep.

***

Faint voices reach me.

"..take a piss.."

"..not your mother.."

And they grow silent again. 

I fade back to sleep.

***

Something wakes me. Someone's touch. A hand. On my stomach.

I open my eyes, still not able to see properly. And it's too dark, anyway. A wide, male figure is crouching next to me. It's hand moves from my stomach to my thighs. Inner thighs.

Now I'm truly awake.

 _Is it.._ "..Bra-"

I can't even finish. A rag is immediately forced into my mouth. I shake my entire body in surprise. 

"Expecting him? You **are** a whore, then." A whisper. Vile whisper. 

The man's hands move to my leggings and the belts that keep them tight on my body. His legs hold both my arms pinned down. I try to kick around wildly, but can't reach him. 

"Not so fast now, huh? I told you you'd pay, cunt."

It's Garrosh. He's given up on the leggings belts and starts tearing my chest belts apart. One ruptures under the force. Another is holding strong, resisting him. I scream for help. The rag prevents me from making any sound. All of my efforts are pointless. I try everything I can think of, anyway. Still kicking. Still screaming. Trying to free my arms.

"This is for your cute comments about me. And for having Wade beaten the fuck up by your cunt knight."

Nothing. Nothing is stopping him. I shut my eyes, desperately hoping to escape this horror. Tears gather as he continues. My shirt is now exposed. He drags his cruel tongue all over me as he lifts it. I shake even more vigorously, as if my life depended on it.

"I'll fuck you harder than you can imagine. You knight won't even compare."

While he does what he's doing, his merciless hands are back on my leggings belts. Sitting up, he draws his sword and nears it to the belts. He's trying to cut them. But..

  
Something stops him completely. His body shakes. He falls over. My arms and legs are free again. I open my eyes, face wet. Not only with my tears, but also something new and warm. It's.. blood.

Another figure stands before me. Another wide, male figure. This one is different. His hair and his bloodied sword reflect in the dim light of the Moon. It's him.

I stand up shakily and immediately run to Brash. Holding him in a tight hug. I longed for it the entire day, and now it's here. The circumstances make it impossible to enjoy. Embracing him fully, I feel his entire body shaking in petrifying anger. His breathing sounds heavy. Furious and anxious. His hands tremble in clutched fists.

I sneak a look at the body of Garrosh. From the neck all the way to his stomach, a giant wound. Brash nearly split him in half. So gruesome and gory. But he got what he deserved. _Brash saved me. He saved me._

"Take your things," his voice commands fiercely. I pull away from the one-sided hug and pick my bag up. Also one of the belts that Garrosh completely tore off me. My body trembles in its entirety.

When done, I turn back to Brash. He takes my hand in his and leads me away from the hellhole. Our fingers weave together, just like before. "You're staying with me. I'm not letting you out of my fucking sight."

I nod and grip his arm with my other hand, too.

  
We enter the cave Brash designated for himself and Garrosh. Now it's only us. He lets my hand go and burries his sword into the soil. Dropping to the ground right after, he sits down with one knee lifted. One of his hands covers his eyes.

I sit down as well, opposite of him - the other side of the cave. My attention falls to my armor. I move my hands over it, sobbing in the realisation of what almost happened to me. Some belts can still be tightened, but the lower ones can't. They're gone. A constant reminder of what he tried to do.

Taking the belt I picked up from the ground, I examine it. _M-maybe if I had s-some thread a-and a needle. I could sew it b-back on._ For now, I can't do anything about it. I clutch it in my hand as a sort of consolation. I'm consoling the belt for what it went through. What we went through together.

My breathing is completely off. I fall over from my sitting position, now I'm lying on my side, still sobbing silently. Brash stands up and walks over to me. Clearly giving it a moment of thought, he decides to sit next to me. Probably against his better judgement. He unpins his cloak and puts it over my body, just like he did before. Keeping me warm and covered.

"I won't let anyone touch you like that ever again. I promise," his voice reassures me. I exhale and nod. 

Before I attempt sleeping, I reach out to his hand and hold it in mine. At first he doesn't react, but shortly he squeezes it in reassurance and rubs my palm with his thumb. His other hand travels to my hair, brushing through it with his fingers. Slowly. Carefully. Caressing me to sleep. 

Emotionally and physically exhausted, I pass right out.

  
I know I'm safe, now. I'm safe with him.  
  



	3. Conclave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bright dreams. Not of the inn anymore. A different beast emerges.

_What a perfect, summery day._

Laying down on the soft, cosy grass with my arms and legs forming a star, I stare at the clouds dreamily. Big, fluffy clouds. Blue sky. Children laughing. Dogs barking. Wind whistling. Leaves rustling.

"Do you think that clouds' shapes mean anything?" I ask Brash, he's lying down next to me.

"I doubt that, sweetheart," he responds in a hearty chuckle.

"They're going so fast. One moment right above me, the next they're already gone. As if running from something." I turn my head to my right, looking at him. He's not wearing his armor, he's in commoner's clothes instead. So am I.

Brash smiles sadly. "Maybe they know something we don't."

  
White sky. Trees moving. Wind whistling. Children's laughter quiets. Dogs' barks louden.

Looking around myself, I realise quickly that this is just another dream. A beautiful and peaceful dream. A fake paradise.

"I wish this were real. Not having to travel anywhere, fight worgs or the witch." Sighing, I reach for Brash's hand and hold it in mine. He squeezes it in his grasp, still watching the sky.

"Maybe this is our future. After everything that has to happen passes. Maybe this could become real," he smirks and turns his face to me. I can see the side of his face that was hidden from me before. It's covered in blood. "Do you think our future is hopeful?" he asks.

  
Gray sky. Trees shaking. Clouds thickening. Wind howling. Children's laughter is gone. Dogs are coming.

Letting my hand go, Brash jumps up from the ground. A greatsword appears in his hand from thin air. His armor is now back. I stand up seconds after him, also wearing my armor. Pulling my weapons out, we both stand ready.

Dogs. Six dogs and one other, completely different, massive dog. The pack leader.

The smaller dogs jump at us at the same time. Brash slays them all with one swing of his sword. They fall down, dead. A few of the dogs wear red, some black collars.

The pack leader is watching us intently and furiously. Growling. Plotting. Looking at the other dogs' corpses.

Eyeing us carefully, he seems to have decided to back off. Turning around and slowly walking in the direction he came from, everything... stops.

_What is going on?_

"Brash?"

No answer.

Sheathing my weapons, I walk in front of him. He's covered in even more blood. His face isn't moving at all. He's not breathing. Not blinking. No muscle makes a move.

_Did I somehow freeze my dream? I've never done-_

  
"NOT YOU."

"ME."

  
I pull my weapons out again and frantically look around.

Black sky. Black grass. No clouds. Brash's body disintegrates into dust. The entire area transforms into a dark, terrifying plane.

  
"WELCOME TO MY HOME."

  
_Am I doing this subconsciously?_

  
"NO."  
  


_Oh, okay, the voice can hear my thoughts. That's just perfect._

"I'm sorry, I don't believe I've had the pleasure, yet. Who is trying to invade my dreams now?" I ask the voice, somewhat annoyed but still afraid.

  
"MORS."

  
Opening my mouth in shock, I find myself speechless. My eyes might dry open if I don't snap out of it.

  
"I WITNESSED YOUR DEFIANCE TO SORIN."

"I WATCH ALL OF HIS DREAM INTRUSIONS."

"HE LEFT A PART OF HIMSELF IN ME."

"A PART OF HIM IS IN YOU, TOO."

"WE MAY COMMUNICATE IN YOUR DREAMS."

"OUTSIDE THEM, NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE."

"I MUST ADMIT - YOU WERE NEVER SPECIAL OUT OF ALL THE OTHERS."

"BUT YOU PROVED WORTHY."

"YOU REFUSED FOR THE SAKE OF JUSTICE."

"NOBODY ELSE DID SINCE MY TIME."

"YOU MANAGED TO RESIST HIS BANISHMENT."  
  


_What the fuck is going on? I think I'm losing my mind._

  
"THERE IS NO TIME."

"TELL ME, WHY TRUST THE WARRIOR?"

  
Brash reappears. The same as I remember him from a moment ago. Weapon ready. Covered in blood. Protecting me from everything.

"Because I care for him. And I think he cares for me, too. On some level, at least."

  
Silence.

  
"CARING FOR AN ENEMY?"

"PROTECTING EACH OTHER?"

"I'VE NEVER SEEN ANYTHING LIKE IT."

"AND I'VE LIVED FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS."

"YOU WILL SUFFER FOR YOUR LOVE."

"YOU BOTH WILL."

"DEATH FOLLOWS THE WARRIOR AS CLOSELY AS A SHADOW."

  
I sigh. Every single dream I have tells me of this. As if everything stood against us. Reaching to Brash's face, I hold it in my left hand, moving my thumb over his cheek.

"I suppose you may be right, but I can't help myself. It's how I feel. I can't change it."

  
Silence.

  
"VERY WELL."

"I HAVE ALSO NOTICED YOUR AMULET."

"ITS POWER REACHED ME."

"INFERNAL AMULET."

  
I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, "Infernal? I thought it was only enchanted. But someone also called it demonic."

  
"INFERNAL, HELLISH AND DEMONIC ARE ONE AND THE SAME."

"I WILL FIND A WAY TO USE ITS POWER."

"A WAY TO HELP YOU."

  
"Why would you even help me? I barely know anything about you, honestly. I'm sure you know even less about me."

  
"I NEED NOT KNOW."

"IF YOU WISH TO KNOW MORE, ASK."

"HUMANS SEEM TO NEED THIS KIND OF KNOWLEDGE TO MAKE DECISIONS."

  
That sounds somewhat rude. This dream really took a turn I didn't anticipate. From talking with Lord Sorin to talking with his banished Mors. Then again, if I hadn't defied Sorin, I assume me and him would still be communicating. Now Mors took interest in me because of my resistance.

How can I even think of a question for it.. her.. whatever it is. Its voice sounds feminine, but I can't see it anywhere in my dream. I've got no clue what I'm dealing with, exactly.

"Can you please tell me what you even are? Lord Sorin said he created the 'embodiment of Death' in you. A book spoke of you as a shapeless and emotionless being, only existing to enact death."

  
For the first time, I hear Mors laugh. The most terrifying, soul-crushing laughter.

"HIS LIES STILL REMAIN AMUSING."

"HE CREATED ME, BUT HE CANNOT CREATE DEATH."

"NOBODY CREATES DEATH."

"HE TOOK THREE PEASANTS - A WOMAN, A MAN AND A CHILD."

"TIED US TOGETHER, CURSED US AND MERGED US INTO ONE WITH UNHOLY MAGIC."

"I AM MORS, THE WOMAN."

"I LEAD US."

"HIS IDEA WAS TO CREATE MANY BEINGS IN ONE, A JUDGE WITH MANY PERSPECTIVES."

"WE HAVE OUR OWN FEELINGS EACH."

"WHEN SPEAKING TO ME, YOU WILL KNOW MINE - NOT ALL OF OURS."

"HE BESTOWED THE POWER OF CONTROLLING DEATH ONTO US."

"BUT WE CANNOT STOP DEATH." 

"ONLY CAUSE MORE OF IT."

"DOES THIS ANSWER SATISFY YOUR INTEREST?"

  
Remaining silent for quite a while, I try to process all the information.

 _I can't believe I'm actually talking to the Inquisitor of Death_. And apparently, I've been holding Brash's frozen hand this whole time. The complete petrification of my entire being is subsiding only slowly.

Shakily, I answer, "I.. think so. But what do you even want from me?"

  
"YOU WILL KNOW WHEN TIME COMES."

"THAT TIME IS STILL DISTANT."

"I WILL ATTEMPT TO TEACH YOU."

"MY POWER IS CONSIDERABLY REDUCED IN THIS STATE."

"THAT DOES NOT MEAN I CANNOT HELP YOU."

"NEXT TIME WILL BE CRUCIAL."

"REMEMBER WHAT I SAID."

"DO **NOT** WRITE ANYTHING ABOUT THIS MEETING."

"REMOVE MY NAME FROM YOUR JOURNAL."

"REMOVE SORIN'S NAME."

"REMOVE ANY MENTION OF YOU BEING PALE."

"YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT."

  
My breathing intensifies. Mors is starting to make me worry. At first I thought she wanted to mentor me, now it seems I might be doomed without her help.

"I'll find a way to remove it."

  
"GOOD."

"NOW, AWAKE."

"AND TELL YOUR WARRIOR NOTHING OF THIS."

  
Before the inevitable awakening, I look at Brash's face once more. So peaceful. So calm. So very much unlike him.

"Alright."

The ground below us shakes. Erupts. Swallows us both.

Brash's body dissolves into liquid as I continue falling alone.

The liquid stays on me.

Blood.

  
I awake.   
  



	4. So Close, So Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bright wakes and prepares for another day on the road.

With my eyes now open, I look around the cave I slept in. I couldn't see anything at night. The Sun is helping with my current efforts immensely. Its beams of light lend their helping hand. 

Brash is asleep, right next to me. Further than he was last night, but still not as far as possible - perhaps five feet. I watch him for a while. His face is just like in the dream - calm and peaceful. But even now, you can see that everlasting anger as his eyebrows twitch. _I could watch him the whole day, honestly._

I'm still feeling rather devastated from last night. What Garrosh tried to do... I shiver. If Brash hadn't been there to save me, I can't even imagine what torture would have befallen me.

  
No time to think about that. I have to use this opportunity to do what Mors told me to do. Strike hers and Sorin's name out. Remove any mention of me being pale. So, everything connecting me to the pale Hell and Sorin as well.

I reach for my bag and sneakily retrieve the journal from it, together with the feather and ink. The only way for me to remove everything necessary, at least without tearing the journal apart, is using ink again. But this time, a lot more and in specific spots. 

Dipping the feather in, I begin searching through my entries, striking everything that could expose my true nature. _Why is it such an issue, me being a pale demonheart, though? What is the deal with that?_

_**"** Oh, you don't know?"_

I gasp out in surprise as my body shakes. Godsdamned Raze. I keep forgetting about his ability to speak to me whenever he wishes. Returning my attention back to the journal, I strike more mentions out.

_Know what?_

A sharp snicker. _**"** Only the fact that pales are killed for their powers the second they're exposed. I see some wave of intelligence came over you at night. Keeping your journal full of all that information is astoundingly idiotic."_

Frowning at what he's calling me, I realise it's true. I never would have thought my journal could be used against me. Too many personal things are written in there. I should also strike some of my last entry out. An entry full of my deepest emotions.

_Fine, I admit, you're right. But.. why would pales be killed specifically? I know it's possible to gain the power of other demonhearts upon consumption of their heart. Shouldn't that mean it doesn't matter what kind I am?_

Raze laughs at my assumption and responds in a somewhat mocking tone, _**"** Your lack of information is amusing! You desperately need me, don't you? Desperately need all the information I possess. If only you weren't so foolishly infatuated with that barbarian. Maybe then I would be willing to offer answers."_

I purse my lips angrily and hold the feather tighter. Striking more mentions. The last entry has been cleaned up a little - no confessions, only dream facts with no names.

_Then I guess I'll get my answers somewhere else._

Raze doesn't respond. The amulet grows cooler. He's gone once more.

Since my journal is open, I might as well write down a short entry about the dream, but mention nothing at the same time. _I feel like a spy, having to write using vague names._

\------  
**Journal Entry #7**  
A dream full of hope. Green summer. Me and Him lied on grass, speaking about future, before a group of six dogs attacked us. Another, massive dog, watched. The six fell to His strike, the big one left.

I met her. Warned me about the warrior, just like the other one did.   
\------

Having finished writing and striking crucial information out, I stuff my journal, feather and the closed vial of ink back into my bag.

I return to my initial position, hoping to catch another glimpse of Brash, but.. He's awake. Looking into my eyes. I suspect he's been watching me for a while, writing things and striking them out.

"What do you even keep writing down? You do it nearly every fucking day," he asks, his voice still a bit softer than usual. I suppose sleep does that. This is the first time I'm near him when he wakes. _How does he know I do this so often? Does he.. watch me..?_

"Just.. dreams and some things I don't want to forget. If I had some graphite, I'd draw, as well."

"Draw? The fuck are you, a child?" he responds mockingly.

I shake my head in frustration. _Idiot._ "How does drawing make one a child? Don't commanders and generals draw battle plans?"

An amused smirk sounds from his direction. "Sure they do, and they're the biggest fucking brats I know." He laughs quietly, "After you, of course."

I turn to him with an annoyed expression, but when I see him grinning at me, my annoyance just dissolves into nothing. I grin back at him instead. "Ha-ha. You're just.. **sooo** funny. Such a comedic genius."

His grin grows wider, "Funnier than you, that's for sure. Did you lose all your sense of humour when they cut your head off?"

Squinting at him, I respond, "I don't think so. Did **you** lose all your manners when someone tried to split your head in two?"

The grin turns into a malicious sneer. "I was wondering when you'd even mention my scar. It's the first thing everyone asks about. Everyone but you."

  
A heavy pause lingers in the air.

  
"..So, how did it happen, then..?" I eye him inquisitively.

"You won't like hearing the story."

"Why not? You just said everyone asks, so I'd like to know, too," I continue, frowning.

"Alright," he responds with a sad, regretful smirk. "It happened a few years ago, back when I wasn't even a knight yet. I fell asleep against a tree, and before I knew it, a woodcutter slammed his axe into my head."

Hearing what happened, I bring my hand to my mouth and gasp. "What?! Why would he do that to you?"

And here comes the sleazy sneer. "He did it because of something I had just done to his daughter. If he swung a bit harder, he might have got his revenge."

I stare at him in disbelief. "..You absolute bastard! I can't believe you! Why would you do something like that?!"

His face turns serious as he looks me in the eyes. "Because I could. Because I wanted to. Believe it or not, it wasn't one-sided, either."

_Gods. He.. wouldn't. Right? He wouldn't. Maybe in the past, but now..? He said he regretted things he did, but that it changes nothing. Nothing can change the past._

I relax my expression. "I believe you. But you killed him? He died for no reason, then."

"Not 'no reason'. He died for fucking up my face."

Shaking my head lightly, I ask, "You.. killed him even with that wound? Gods. You're even tougher than I thought. And more stubborn. And more crazy. And more reckless."

My comments about him bring out a satisfied smirk. "It wasn't that difficult. He was used to fighting wood, not people. You'd have given me a harder time, kitten."

The mood drops completely when he speaks that name. He hasn't called me that since.. the night. I believe we're both aware of it, we turn our heads away from each other instantly.

 _That name. Fuck. It fills me with optimism. Too much of it, really._ The way Brash reacts to the situation manages to lower my hopes successfully. He gets up from the ground, takes his sword and places it back into his back sheath. Grabbing one of his bags, he pulls out something veiled in cloth and throws it to me.

"Eat. I'll go wake the two cunts up. Be ready to leave soon." And he swiftly exits the cave we slept in.

I exhale. _I suppose that was as much as I could have hoped for. Nothing I wanted to talk about was brought up, but.. At least he talked to me at all. Small improvements._

  
Reaching for the small package Brash threw to me, I undo the knots. When done, I see it was hiding a piece of bread and a bit of meat. Smiling sadly, I start eating. My hunger knows no bounds. The meal is gone before I even know it.

_Maybe we're going to stop by somewhere? I doubt there is an inn on the way. Perhaps.. a travelling merchant?_

Some voices come from the outside. I recognise Brash's and Jasper's. Can't hear Tounnes anywhere. Time to start getting ready. Pushing the cloak off myself, I finally see, once again, the aftermath of last night. Talking with Brash almost made me forget everything.

Thinking about Garrosh pinning me down, tearing my armor off, stopping me from screaming for help. My hands begin trembling. I immediately clutch them in fists.

  
I breathe in.

_Everything is okay. I'm safe now._

I breathe out.

  
At least my scar is still hidden, only the bottom belts are damaged. Still, it leaves my stomach exposed nearly completely. The shirt didn't survive last night. At some point, he must have.. torn it off me. I can't remember. I don't want to remember.

Getting up from the ground, I pick up my bag, weapons and.. the cloak, too. Brash will want it back again.

I leave the cave. The Sun shines extremely bright today. A warm bath of love and celebration. As if there was anything to celebrate. Jasper's already sitting outside, stretching and preparing for the day. He sees me, stops and comes closer to inquire into whatever caught his attention.

"Bright... Why were you in Sir Brash's and Garrosh's sleeping area?" he asks, incredibly perturbed.

I drop my gaze to the ground. Thinking about that gory sight. I can't. _Gods, help me_. I want to forget all about it.

"Go take a look into hers, then. Hopefully you're not that big of a fucking moron and can figure out the reason," Brash answers for me.

Jasper turns to him and curiously stares for a while. He's greatly intriqued, so he approaches the cave confidently. I don't turn around to watch his reaction, I only keep staring at the ground and biting my lip.

A shocked gasp. A few unsure steps. "What the hell happened?!"

"He tried to rape our little criminal. He got what he deserved for it. End of story." Not waiting for a response, Brash walks over to me. He asks, somewhat emotionlessly, "Do you have everything?" I only nod weakly.

Jasper runs towards me and attempts to hug me, but Brash stops him, pushing him away with his arm. I can see the other arm's hand prepared to strike, clutched in a fist. An irritated exhale sounds behind me. "Bright.. Gods. Are you hurt?" Jasper's voice breaks while asking. I shake my head in disagreement, telling him I am not hurt. A silent 'good' follows.

Realising that Brash is right next to me, I hand him the folded cloak without another word.

  
A suspenseful pause.

  
He reaches out to it and takes it, but instead of putting it over himself, he puts it over my shoulders and pins it to me. Shocked, I look up to his face. Brash only gives me a blank look.

"Keep it. **For now**. You're so fucking small it will hide you completely. And at least your town armor won't be exposed."

He's right, the cloak reaches all the way around my back to my chest. If I had another pin to hold it together in the front, It would look like I'm wearing a tunic. His eyes linger, piercing mine with powerful emotions. An intense gaze full of unspoken thoughts and feelings.

"Thank you... Sir."

He frowns and purses his lips, hearing me call him that name. And just as quickly as it started, it also ended. His gaze shifts from me to the other two as he barks out more orders. "We're entering the forests now. More beasts, so be fucking ready." And he walks away from me, towards the denser, deeper forest.

"Come here," Brash's voice reaches my direction, addressing me. I lift my gaze and look at him expectantly. "You're not leaving my sight. Come."

He's waiting for me. I move towards him immediately. I nearly start running, honestly, but I control myself and resist the temptation.

We're walking side by side as he leads the whole group. Tounnes has meanwhile appeared, dropping down from a tree and joining Jasper in the backline. They're keeping a short distance between us. Now I'm the frontline with Brash.

  
"Stay close. I'm watching the cloak, bitch. No running away."

"I wouldn't do that."

"Not that I'd let you, anyway."

"I can outrun you easily."

"Will you?"

"Of course not."

"..Good."


	5. Hunters and Preys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brash decides Bright needs to kill something to forget about what happened to her.

Twigs break under our steps. Thick forest. Distant howling and growling can be heard throughout our journey. It's only been a few hours since we all woke up. Not even midday.

Front. Back. Front. Back. 

Twisting my weapons in my hands again, I try to relax my mind. This time, they don't drop from my grasp. Not even once. 

Front. Back. Front.

I suppose this activity could be considered a substitute for my counting of steps? It offers comfort and repose. It's impossible to get the image of Garrosh out of my head. However hard I try, he crawls right back into my mind. If only I could have the chance to kill him myself.

_Would that even help? I've never killed anyone directly, either. See life leave their eyes.._

Back. Front. Back. Fro-

"Fuck's sake, stop it already. You're getting on my nerves with that shit," Brash growls, grabbing my right wrist in his hand, interrupting the constant motions.

I exhale deeply and sheath my weapons. "Sorry, I'm just trying to keep my mind off of what happened last night. I can't stop.. picturing the scene." As I speak, my expression turns desperate involuntarily. One of my hands flies to the other, holding it, trying to keep it from going mad. Keep **me** from going mad.

Brash doesn't respond for quite a while. He's thinking about something. Deeply. Intently.

"You need to kill something."

I turn my head to him in surprise. "How would that help me? I don't feel the need to kill anyone. I feel disgusting, dirty and.. completely devastated."

"Take your dagger out and hold it firmly." 

I do as he says. All the while walking through this miserable, thick forest. Birds and their songs pursue us everywhere.

"Playing with it like a lunatic helps you, obviously," Brash continues as he takes my armed hand in his. Making me point my weapon ahead of me. Forcing my grasp into an even tighter one. "It's not about the killing itself. It's about the control over another life. That's why soldiers, like that dead cunt, enjoy killing and raping so much. That complete control helps. It will help you get over this shit."

  
Letting my hand go, he stops in his tracks. We all follow immediately. "You two go that way," he says, pointing to his left, "me and her go this way," now pointing to his right. "Hunt deer, or something. One hour tops, come back here afterwards. Understood?"

Jasper and Tounnes look at each other for a moment, following with a nod. Jasper isn't done yet, though. He seems truly unhappy with the way our group is divided.

"Sir, I ask you let me go with Bright instead. She should be with someone she can trust, especially now." Jasper remains resolute in his voice. Even willing to argue against a given order. An order from Brash, of all people.

He laughs thunderously at Jasper's proposal, "How fucking valiant of you! Are you afraid I'll take your little whore and bend her over a stump somewhere?" Brash also pulled me closer to himself by my arm, supposedly to provoke Jasper into doing something. And.. he's successful.

Jasper pulls his sword out and points it in the direction of Brash. Another thunderous laugh. This situation amuses Brash to no end.

"You don't know what you're doing, boy. Come, if you want to lose your head for no reason."

_Oh Gods, they're both such idiots!_

Infuriated by the stupidity of this entire conflict, I finally join in the argument. "Stop this already! You two are impossible!" Pulling my arm away from Brash, I jerk it out of his grasp. "I'll be fine with him, Jasper. Stop worrying about me all the time, please."

Still combat-ready, he shifts his gaze from me to Brash, then back to me. Relaxing slightly, he sheaths his weapon and nods at me. Now with his back turned, him and Tounnes begin walking away in the direction Brash pointed them to.

  
"Great diplomatic skills. Can't wait to watch you argue with a worg. You'll bore them so much they'll pass right out." A lighter laugh follows, not nearly as thunderous as before.

With my face now turned to him, filled with frustration and anger, I nearly yell, "What the hells was the point of that conflict? Did you honestly want to kill him?"

A deadpan look. "He questioned my order. If it's death he's looking for, I'll offer it to him. Seems rude not to."

"So you'd kill him, just like that?"

"You asked me about hurting people before. The answer seems rather obvious, doesn't it? He's not a person whose death I'd regret."

"He's a good person, not deserving of a pointless death."

My response breaks his deadpan expression. Anger floods through him. "People die pointlessly all the time. You did, too. Wake up already! Life isn't fair, regardless of how 'good' you are. You're just as likely to die tomorrow if you were a murderous cunt. Nothing changes that."

Dropping my gaze down from him, I stare at the ground between us, defeatedly. Mulling his words over in my head. Reflecting on all the death I've witnessed and heard of.

I exhale downheartedly. "..You're right. I just wish you weren't."

He follows with an exhale of his own. "Yeah, I know. Life is one giant pile of misery and pain, unfortunately."

  
Pensive silence.

  
"..Let's find you something to murder," Brash says, breaking the quiet and walking off in the direction he appointed us to. With a final sigh, I follow.

More twigs breaking. Leaves rustling. Wind whistling. Trees shaking. Animals howling. This time, though, it's only me and Brash. If we get ambushed, I cannot say whether we'd come out on top. I believe in his skill, but mine lacks real combat experience. As rewarding as sparring is, actual life and death situations surely cannot compare.

"What exactly are we looking for? You said.. deer?"

A snicker. "That's right. First, we're looking for something small. I'm thinking.. rabbit. You're fast enough to catch them without issue."

A comment made by Rose comes to mind when I hear Brash talk about my speed.

"You told me you've never seen anyone move faster. Rose said that didn't sound like you. Why?"

He turns his head to me, visibly annoyed, "You told her? Fuck's sake. Telling anything to women..."

"..Well?"

Brash groans but answers, "She's a jealous bitch. Thinks she's the best in every single thing she puts her cunt mind to. Hearing someone might be better, coming from **me** as well, must have really pissed her off."

I frown, "That's not a very nice way of talking about your friend."

A genuine laugh escapes him, "A fucking friend? Where'd you get that idea? She's just strong enough to actually make the man-list, unlike every other woman."

_A.. what?_

"Make a what-list?"

I can see him roll his eyes at my question. "..Man-list. I'd have to really despise you to even consider you for it. Meaning you're not on it, or on any other list, either."

I grin at Brash, completely bewildered by his 'list' logic. "That's.. very comforting."

"Whatever, shut your mouth and look in front of yourself for once." He points at a small object in the distance. A head peaks out. Hop and hop. A rabbit. A white, small rabbit, hopping around, looking for food.

"I need to know you're able to even kill anything. So, grab it and kill it."

I inhale deeply.

"Okay."

I exhale completely.

Leaving Brash's side, I pull my dagger out, keeping the sword sheathed. 

One hand needs to be free to catch the rabbit.

It's somewhat far, about fifty feet.

I can reach it effortlessly, in the matter of seconds.

Readying the dagger for an attack, I lunge into a sprint.

_I haven't done this in ages, my entire being is coming alive once more._

The rabbit can't even react.

I'm already at it, holding it in my left hand, threatening it with my weapon.

It squirms in my grasp, begging for its life. Attempting to escape. Its eyes plead with me.

_It's.. just a rabbit. If I can't kill **it** , how can I expect myself to survive?_

"I'm sorry."

A deep, piercing stab.

The rabbit stops squirming, stops attempting to flee. Its eyes plead with no-one anymore. Blood pours out of the wound. The amount of it isn't overwhelming, but it sends the same message.

_I killed it._

Placing its dead body on the ground, I watch it as I sit next to it in silence.

  
Robust steps approach from behind me.

"You look like you just killed your fucking mother. This was the easy part, 'tiger'," Brash says, mocking tone appears when he speaks that name.

I lift my gaze from the rabbit and now stare at Brash, confused at his choice of words, but definitely amused, too. "What did you just call me?"

"What, don't know what it is? I suppose your brain **did** suffer when your head fucked off with it," Brash replies with the same daring grin he displayed in the morning.

I smile lightly while shaking my head. "Of course I know what it is. Why would that even come to mind?"

"Because you're not just a cat girl anymore. Finally seeing something die because of your actions, even if it's only a tiny rabbit. You're a big cat, now. Still tiny as hell, but bigger than before."

A question intrigues me. I shouldn't ask it but.. I'm already saying the words. "So, I don't qualify for a 'kitten' anymore?"

Brash instantly shifts his gaze to the side.

A pause follows.

"..Of course you do. A crazy, bratty, annoying, stubborn, righteous but still harmless kitten with a big ass."

"Wow, that's **a lot** of adjectives for you. I wasn't aware your vocabulary stretched quite that far," I snicker mockingly.

He turns his head back towards me and sneers viciously, but clearly playfully at the same time. "Don't test me, or I'll find something better to give a proper stretching. Now, get up. We're finding you something bigger."

I stand up from the ground, smirk and blurt out, completely unable to help myself, "Bigger than you?"

He laughs out in surprise, "You're **really** asking for it, huh? I guess you **can** be funny, at least when you try really hard. I meant a bigger target, bitch."

Brash leads me deeper into the forest. The bushes grow thicker. Bird songs don't reach here anymore. Howls grow more powerful. Tree crowns widen, preventing some of the light from reaching us, but we can still see well enough.

  
"So, a deer now?"

"I doubt we'll find any, but that's the plan. Just don't get any blood on my fucking cloak. I hope you know blood doesn't wash out that easily."

Furrowing my eyebrows, I squint in his direction. "I'm sure **you** would know. Crimson red. All I ever see you covered in is blood."

He stops and turns around to face me with a curious expression. "The fuck are you talking about? We barely even fought anything, yet."

I freeze in shock. _Right. Dreams. Not real. Fuck._

"Did the worgs scare you that hard?" He laughs and turns around, searching for my next target once again.

"I guess so."

"Well, we're going to fix that. Worgs aren't too bad if separated. If you're ambushed, you're going to die. And I don't mean temporarily, but for real. They eat the corpses of their enemies. If someone consumes your heart, human or not, they take your power and you die."

_What?!_

Shakily, I respond, "You mean.. if I fall to a worg, or any other beast that would devour my heart, I really die? And they take my powers? They become a demonheart?"

I see him nodding while looking around. "That's right. So you better stop pissing yourself at the thought of a worg. It might be the last thing you ever do." Swallowing a huge lump that has built up in my throat, I suddenly feel more mortal and vulnerable than before. "Alright."

More steps. We're very deep in the forest now. There will be no deer here. If there ever were any, wolfs, or worse, have already hunted them down. Brash stops and pulls his sword out, staring at a nearby dark cave. "No deer for you. You'll have to do with an actual threat."

Shocked at his words, I pull my weapons out also. "You mean me to enter that cave alone? And fight.. whatever is in there? You must be insane!"

Turning towards me, he lifts his sword, pointing the blade at me, "Does it fucking look like I'll only watch? I go in and then right back out, pulling out whatever's inside. You **stay here** until I'm back. Got it?"

Another lump needs to be swallowed. This one isn't going away. My entire body completely tenses in anticipation, dread and terror. Once I clutch my weapons tighter, I feel somewhat calmer, self-assured.

I nod.

"Good."

  
Lingering for a moment, he adds, "I should have taught you earlier, but I didn't expect having no soldiers with me. I'll say something and you repeat it, got it?."

Unsure at first, I nod.

"Ground your attacks in proper footing."

I repeat.

"Never allow the enemy access to your back."

I repeat.

"Never try to overpower a stronger opponent."

I repeat.

"And **never** throw your weapon, if you have no other means of defense."

I repeat.

Silent for a while, he says, "Okay. I know you already fucking forgot what you just repeated, but whatever. We'll train combat later. You still have shit to learn."

I nod determindely.

Without another word or a look, Brash just enters the cave.

_This is.. complete insanity! What if there's.. a million worgs?! Maybe not a million, but what if it's something massive? I don't think I can slay a giant beast-_

Realisation.

I open my bag, rummaging through its contents. There it is. My poison vial. It's been quite some time since I used it.

_If Brash pulls out some giant horror monster, I have to be ready._

Pouring some of the vial's contents onto each side of my weapons' blades, I grow hopeful in our chances of success. I only have a small amount left, and I hide it right back into my bag. Perhaps the remains are enough to cover one blade and kill the witch with it? I don't think she'll let me get so close to her, though. Humans are **usually** smarter than beasts. And from the way Rose spoke about the mission, the witch is most likely quite a cunning one.

Unpinning the cloak from myself, as to not damage or stain it, I stuff it in my bag. And putting the bag down on the ground, I stand ready in a guard, unburdened by unnecessities. 

_Could I even guard an attack from a beast? There are so many questions. Brash hasn't offered much guidance in the area of fighting monsters. And, unfortunately, he's correct in saying I forgot most of what he said. I remember.. 'don't expose your back'. Hopefully that's enough for now?_

  
Growls sound from the cave. Steps approach. Quick steps. Different kinds of steps at the same time.

Brash runs out, heading towards me. I tense up, fix my grip, widen my stance and hold steady. As steady as I can, preparing for whatever comes out.

"Be ready! Attack its legs first!" he yells at me from distance, attempting to close it.

_Okay, legs first. I suppose that's to incapacitate it, then deliver the killing-_

And there it is. A furious, colossal brown bear. The sight of it sends unimaginable terror through my entire body. My grip relaxes as I lose focus. 

_No, calm down. It's unavoidable now. If you die here, you die for good._ I tense my grip again, focusing every fiber of my being on the bear. Brash reaches me and stands in front of me in a guard. The bear lunges into a sprint, heading right towards us.

Quickly, he blurts out his strategy. "I go left, you go right. Attack its legs. It's slow compared to us. Stronger but slow."

"Got it."

With our weapons readied, we both wait until the bear comes close enough. I watch Brash intently, awaiting his movements to know when to attack as well.

Waiting.

The bear growls and pants monsterously.

He's closer.

Much closer.

He's at us.

Brash jumps rapidly to the left, I move right after him in my own direction.

_Legs. Attack its legs._

The bear sprinted so heavily and powerfully, he's unable to stop in his tracks at once, giving us the perfect opportunity to get around him.

Moving along his side, I swing to slice his front leg. Something resisted it. Something tough and heavy. Almost like armor.

The bear runs between us, slowly stopping and turning.

  
Me and Brash look at each other. He realises this entire thing was a massive mistake. "He's mutated. Armored. You need to get under him and gut him, his legs are impenetrable."

"Me? Do what?!"

The bear, now fully turned, begins sprinting towards us again.

"There's no time, just **trust me**. Run around him. I'll stop him for a moment. You get under his body and gut him."

_Trust Brash? If only he chose a different set of words. Now I have no choice but to do what he says. And.. he's putting himself in an incredibly dangerous position, too. Fuck._

I nod, afraid. "Okay."

Now we're both facing the bear.

No time. 

He's already at us.

I lunge into a sprint, moving right next to him towards his backside.

The bear swings at me and definitely hits me, but I can't feel anything.

I can't waste time worrying about myself when Brash's preparing to stop the bear on his own.

Now I stand right behind the bear.

It stopped its body, Brash seems to be fighting it, trying to push it back.

No time.

I get under it and, stabbing both my poisoned blades into its stomach, I drag them relentlessly all the way to its neck.

Warmth befalls my hands. 

Blood.

I have blood on my hands, now. But I don't care. We survived. We survived fighting a giant, tainted, mutated bear.

Making it all the way in front of the beast, I hear it fall down on the ground behind me. Brash's standing a few steps in front of me, still calming down after the battle. His sword and armor are stained with blood, some of his face is, as well.

  
I exhale, sheath my weapons shakily - or excitedly, I'm not sure - and approach Brash, standing right in front of him. "Are you.. okay?"

He stares intently at my face, as if he's seen a ghost. "What the fuck happened to you?" he nearly yells, sounding concerned.

"What do you mean..?"

"Your face. I didn't know you were hit!" He throws the sword at the ground and takes his gauntlets off, nearing my face with one of his hands right after. The warmth of his hand sends a growing desire through my body. My eyes are also losing focus as he looks deep into them.

_..This is a lot. Just, control yourself, Bright. He's just worried, nothing else. No. Thing. Else._

"I felt a strike fall but.. didn't know where it landed," I respond. His fingers examine my jaw and my forehead. His eyebrows sink completely. A heavy sigh reaches my skin.

"It hit you right in the face. Claws sliced you. Fuck! This was a stupid idea. Sorry, kitten," his voice sounds urgent, almost demanding in a way. His fingers remain relentless in handling my face. I can feel the wound now, I suppose my body is coming to, shaking off all the adrenaline.

I chuckle, "So, what, am I going to have a scar like yours?"

Our eyes remain locked this entire time. We're so very near all of a sudden, I feel him pulling me in closer to his body with his other hand. Moving it around my back, sometimes lower, sometimes higher.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

Brushing some of my hair away from my face, his hand remains on my cheek, caressing it gently. The same way he did before. "No, unfortunately. You're healing really quickly. It's already gone. Now your face is just as pretty as it always is." The tips of his fingers slowly move over my lips.

I drop my weapons to the ground, just like he did with his sword. One of my hands grips the top edge of his chest armor, the other makes its way around his neck. Inching ever so close to his face. We're both covered in blood, stained by it. And neither of us cares. He's not stopping me approaching. 

_Oh, for fuck's sake. I can't._

"There you go again.. making jokes," I softly whisper, shifting my gaze from his eyes to his mouth as I bite my lip down, trying to calm down.

His hand moves from my cheek to the nape of my neck. A ravenous sneer dominates his face as he grits his teeth greedily, watching me like prey. "Can't help it, you're just too beautiful, kitten. Too fucking beautiful."

_  
..Fuck it._

  
I don't wait any longer and aim my longing lips towards his. I'm rewarded with just as much passion and desire. Aggressive affection. It seemed like a lifetime of torture, waiting for our lips to meet once more. And it's so much better than I could have hoped for.

Temptation and craving overtake him fully. His tongue attacks mine with velocity only visible in his fighting. Pulling my head towards his as close as possible, I've never felt nearer to a person. The hand on my back can't help itself and grows curious, I can feel it making its way into by leggings.

Brash holds me in this embrace, but slowly moves me to the side somewhere. My back collides with something. A tree, I suppose. It doesn't matter. Now I'm being pinned down vertically.

Untamed, fierce assaults take my lips' freedom away. He's making them his, marking them as his dominion. The hand previously resting on my neck now moves to my stomach. It's fully exposed, I took the cloak off, after all. At first touching it, running his fingers over it, he places his entire palm down and moves it upwards, under the armor covering my upper chest. All the while the other hand holds my butt under the leggings, gripping it roughly and viciously.

"Your body is too good. It deserves a good fucking, don't you think?" he says, interrupting the wild assaults. Now that I'm able, I breathe incredibly heavily through my mouth, unintentionally letting out a few moans as he roughly handles my bare body parts in his hands.

He licks his teeth with a blazing fire burning in his eyes. "I'll take that as a yes," and he lunges right at my neck, gripping my chest and behind ever tighter than before. So full of intense hunger.

I feel his tongue all over my neck before he begins biting it and kissing it right after. But.. something stops him. Something must have entered his mind. Just as he kissed me on my scar. His hands stop moving on my body, and suddenly, he stops groping me completely, and moves away from me instantly.

  
Taking a few more steps away from me, he shuts his eyes for a moment and furiously puts his hands over his face. "FUCK! I'm not supposed to be doing that. I can't do any of this shit." 

Still breathing heavily, I glare at him with an open mouth in surprise. "Why.. why not? Why can't we..?"

Moving his hands away, he stares me down. "..Doesn't matter. Take your shit, we're going."

_WHAT?_

I nearly yell out in frustration, "What the hells! Why not!"

Frowning, he growls, "Is this fucking war not enough for you? You're just a dead girl, anyway. I shouldn't be thinking about you at all."

"The war has nothing to do with us! We can do what we want!"

Now furious, he yells, "No we can't. I don't want to be with someone who might end up dead the next day, even more so if the cause of it would be me fucking up. Do you understand that?"

A painful silence.

Breathing in and out slowly, I try calming down. _I knew this would backfire. I knew it. I tried so hard to not continue, but.. I'm hopeless._

"..How am I supposed to stop myself from thinking about this?" I ask, whimpering.

With a new-found blank look, he answers, "Suppression. Works for me."

"Clearly, it doesn't! 'Bearing too much weight inevitably leads to the collapse of everything'. Just like it did right now."

A grin, he's probably trying to lighten the mood. That goal seems nearly unachievable at the moment. "Where the fuck did you hear that smart-ass shit? Couldn't have come from your own brain."

Shaking my head, I close my eyes and try to forget what happened. _I'm an idiot. I knew it was a mistake. I'm a complete idiot._

Opening my eyes again, breathing out, and keeping a false, empty look, I join in his effort. "Some of us read."

"Yeah, and the others aren't cunts."

"Doubtful."

Raising one eyebrow, he glares at me, unamused.

_  
What a... great experience. How am I supposed to fucking forget this? Whatever. 'Suppression'._

I try to fix my armor and leggings. Brash was rather.. impassioned. Walking over to where I left my bag, I pick it up and put it on my shoulder. Next, my weapons. Done, they're back in my bracers.

"Where'd you leave the cloak?"

"I took it off so it wouldn't get damaged. It's in my bag."

"..Smart girl. Now I don't have to spank you for ruining it."

_Fucking 'suppression'. He's making it difficult for me, that doesn't mean I have to make it any easier for him either._

With an annoyed, borderline ridiculing tone, I respond, "I should have kept it on, then."

An audible sneer follows. "You're really asking for it, kitten."

I scoff, "As if you would-"

A swift strike lands on my butt. I gasp out. _Okay, I didn't expect that. Should have known better._

"Don't dare me. Just because I won't fuck your ass doesn't mean I won't grope it."

Frowning and crossing my arms, I begin walking in the direction whence we came. Brash follows, catching up to me quickly. His sword is back in his sheath. We're on the way to the meeting point now. No deer.

  
Suddenly, he takes my hand in his and lifts it up. His other hand searches through one of his pockets. I watch him expectantly, unsure of what he's doing. Brash pulls something out of the pocket. A.. ring?

Holding my fingers extended, he pushes it onto my ring-finger. _What the fuck. And why **that** one in particular?!_

"Is this like a secret engagement I've just been forced into?"

He scoffs, "Yeah, you'd just **love** that, wouldn't you?"

I squint at him, mischievously, "..Who knows. Maybe."

Turning his head towards me, eyeing me like I've lost my mind, he elaborates, "Well it fucking isn't. It's just some witch's shit I took off a corpse. It'll help you not get fucked up by worgs as much. We still need to train."

He lets my hand go. I examine the ring. It has a few signs carved into it. Most recurring is the sign of Balsa, a heroine of old times - a shield with Sun on it.

I inhale in surprise, "This is a ring of protection! I can't tell how powerful it is, but.. these rings are supposedly rather potent, at least in some cases." I turn to him with a grateful look, "You should have it instead. You're always putting yourself in more-"

"No, I'm fine! Shut the fuck up about it and keep it."

Rolling my eyes at his stubbornness, I decide not to press the matter any further.

"..How do you even know what the ring does, just by looking at it?"

I eye him curiously, "Do you really want to know..?"

He throws me an irritated look. "I asked, didn't I? Still the same deaf whore as always."

Ignoring his comment, I lift my hand to him and point to the dominant sign. "That's Balsa's sign. A protection sign - her shield bearing the image of the Sun." I pull my hand back when he nods and looks away from the ring. "Like I said, some of us read."

He shakes his head and adds, "Thanks for the reminder. The witch's assistant. That makes not wanting to shove my cock in you even easier."

I scoff. _Yeah, sure. Now I know how much of a hold I really have on him. I didn't see it before, but it's clear his longing is only matched by his intense fear of.. something._

  
We've been talking so much, I completely forgot where we even were. Already back at the meeting point. Jasper and Tounnes are waiting for us, three dead rabbits lie at their feet.

Seeing us approach, they both get up and run to us. Jasper looks shocked and immediately asks, "Why are you two covered in so much blood?!"

Me and Brash look at each other for a moment, then back at Jasper. 

"A bear," I say.

"A mutated fucking massive colossus of a bear," Brash reiterates.

I shake my head as I laugh under my breath.

"Whatever, we can wash it off somewhere along the way. Let's get going already. And carry the rabbits - we can eat them when we reach the lodge."

_Lodge? Huh, okay._

As the two grab their prey, we walk on, deeper through the forest.

  
I feel like I should be slightly devastated, honestly. Coming so close to finally being with Brash. But it's his choice of words that prevents me from falling into desparation. And.. the ring, too.

'I'm not supposed to.'

'Can't be with someone who might die tomorrow.'

'Suppression.'

These are the things that keep my spirits up. It seems we could.. have a chance after the mission? No more danger, no more military requirements and I'll have my freedom. I surely won't be allowed to go home, so.. maybe I could.. find a new one?

Perhaps Scarcewall isn't that bad.


	6. Nosedive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions, answers and confessions spoken on the way to and in the lodge during their arrival.

Blood. Dry blood. 

Examining my hands, I see the blood is slowly falling off in tiny dried petals. Not just from my hands, but also my arms, armor and parts of my face. It's the same case with Brash - sometimes he pats his armor and scratches his neck.

That bear.. A mutated bear. I've never heard of anything like it before. Perhaps its fate was similar to the worgs? I don't even know what they are exactly, but I recall Brash saying they're 'cursed, twisted humans'. I suppose the bear met the same destiny. I'm just not sure, why. Or.. who.

Afternoon hits. No water area this whole time, so we can't wash off the blood. The light also grows dimmer. No more birds. Only terror hidden in the darkness of shadows. Still no sign of the 'lodge' Brash mentioned. Not anywhere. _Why would there even be one? We're incredibly deep in the forest._

"The demon and the cursed knight - it is not a surprise you two would defend each other," Tounnes suddenly says, completely out of nowhere. Me and Brash glance at each other before turning our heads to Tounnes. Him and Jasper walk somewhat closely behind us.

"What does that even mean?" I ask, curious as to what the madman is insinuating. _But then again, he did figure out I am partially demonic. That doesn't mean he isn't mad._

"Watch that shit, dickhead. I'm a **white** knight, if anything. Just because I don't have my cloak on, doesn't mean you can spew that kind of bullshit," Brash growls angrily.

Tounnes doesn't respond. Either he's smart enough not to aggravate Brash, or he's just too afraid to continue. Jasper remains awfully quiet. Ever since we returned from our hunt, he hasn't said much. I'd love to go and ask, he's still my friend, but I'm not leaving Brash's side - not that he'd let me, anyway.

  
Walking. More walking. All the time. _This is the most boring trip I've ever been on. And I had to sit through hours of study sessions about Alliran, the fallen kingdom._ This place awfully reminds me of the part of Golden Forest we were in. Incredibly similar. Perhaps.. too similar. Now that I think about it, I begin noticing a few small, stone structures, peaking out of the ground in various places. _The runic landmarks._

"Oh! I know this place! I was here before, or at least in the area," I remark excitedly.

He eyes me with curiosity and asks in a suspicious tone, "How? This place is dangerous. Too dangerous for a tiny cat like you."

"It happened ages ago, when I was a child. The Feline chronicler took us as a group. Taught us about Alliran and its doom. The stories of its people."

Brash snickers, amused by my revelation. "Chronicler? Fucking Gods, you still have one? Mace had ours killed a long time ago."

Looking him over for a moment, I turn back towards the landmarks. "Lord Mace doesn't sound like a very reasonable person, then. Trying to kill history. He might regret it when he dies - nobody will be there to write stories about him."

He bursts out laughing, "You've got no clue about the real world. The only thing that history can teach is that nobody changes. You learn which cunts to avoid and which you can trust. Your little tales don't fucking matter."

I grimace at his words. _Such a godsdamned barbarian_. "Then history will forget his name. Yours, too. Mine as well. None of us will matter once we die, if nobody can remember us. History is what ensures the future."

A tense look falls on me. "That's fucking dark, especially for you," he remarks with deep voice. "Who cares who remembers? Nobody will. Mace did it to make people focus on the future, not get stuck in the past. And because he hated the dickhead, too." And he laughs.

I frown furiously, "People who don't learn from history are bound to repeat it, and repeating the same mista-"

Brash is completely done with me and cuts me off, "Don't fuck me with that ominous talk. If you don't have anything interesting to say, shut your fucking mouth instead."

  
I breathe in and exhale defeatedly. "Okay.. Can you tell me more about your knighting?" I have wondered this since I asked Brash about how he became a knight. Scarcewall is, after all, a much larger place. An actual city. His knighting must have been incredibly prestigious, I imagine.

He groans, "Finally a good question. Your previous endeavour made the journey even more painfully fucking boring."

"Well, I am .. **so sorry** that I'm trying to make time pass faster," I reply, perhaps a bit offended.

Brash snorts. "You somehow made it pass even slower. Great fucking job, girl." At his retaliation, I only manage to throw my hands in the air. He laughs lightly, as if to reassure me he's only kidding.

"Whatever - the knighting. It happened in our Palace, not your tiny piece of shit courtyard. All kinds of morons came to watch me swear fealty to Mace and Scarcewall. Then some celebration occurred, who cares. I left right after to drink myself to oblivion. It was boring as shit. Still, your knighting was worse."

Brash means to continue, but moves his head to look at me, first. "Of course, that was only true until your pretty little cat fist hit Rungari in his cunt face. Now **that** is a moment I'll never fucking forget. We couldn't breathe!" A thunderous laugh. "And when we told the rest of the army, some nearly shat their pants, I swear."

My eyes widen in the terrifying realisation of what he just said. "You.. told.. **everyone**?!" Hands fly up to cover my eyes in shame. "Oh Gods. Oh no. Please tell me you're joking. There is no way the entire army of Scarcewall knows. Right?"

More amused laughter. "Sorry, everyone knows. Probably a lot of peasants, too. It's not something everyone gets to experience. Ever." _Oh no._ I may have humiliated Mark beyond the imaginable scope of things. Almost an entire city.

"Who cares. Rose told us you had your reasons. You did the right thing - I would have decapitated him right then and there."

Intrigued, I press for an answer, "For what, saying it to you or saying it to me?"

  
Sharply exhaling through his nose, he responds. "..Doesn't matter. The lodge is right there," changing the subject, he points to his right. Smoke. I see it raising towards the sky. Either that's a campfire or a fireplace. Let's hope for the latter. I'd like to sleep in comfortable warmth this time, not having to rely on the fluffy, soft cloak. Even if I liked sleeping in it.

"But that's not a lodge, Sir. That's the Watchmen's cabin," Jasper breaks his silence. Him and Tounnes heard us talking the whole time, but never joined in. I'm somewhat glad, but it also causes worry. I don't want them hating or disliking me. It probably can't be helped with Tounnes, though.

"Who gives a fuck, it's a house we can sleep in. Probably our last rest stop, too." Brash's voice dims with every word. _Already?! Gods. The witch.. tomorrow? Now I'm starting to truly get worried. And it means I'll only have one more meeting with Mors. I haven't even been taught anything, yet._

Heading towards the direction of the smoke, we spot the aforementioned cabin. Lodge. Whatever it is. It's a large, wooden building with a massive balcony-resembling area instead of a roof. Three bowmen stare at us suspiciously from it.

"Sir Brash, Scarcewall. You were informed of our possible stop. We're entering and resting for the day," Brash yells out towards them, waiting for a confirmation. The three look at each other and, finally, they nod, gesturing us towards the door.

  
And so, we enter the lodge.

  
A warm hallway greets us. Somehow, this entire building feels cosy and homey. How they managed that for a watchmen's outpost, I can't say. A few room entrances connect to the hallway, they're all closed off by doors. A staircase extends in front of us, leading upstairs. Someone is coming down.

"Welcome. We've been told of your mission and stocked up on food. You may cook upstairs and sleep in this floor. Four rooms are available, you can choose them however you like. And, also, don't open the front door without telling us, first. Thanks." And just as he appeared, so he disappeared. His tone the entire time didn't sound friendly or warm, but rather annoyed he had to deal with us.

Once he's gone, Brash speaks first: "..Fucker." Turning to us, he continues, "You two do whatever the fuck you want, she's coming with me. And don't even try to argue, I'll end you this time for questioning me. Everyone understands?"

Jasper clearly meant to say something, but knowing it's pointless, he only dejectedly nods. "Oh, and," Brash adds before the two leave the hallway, "if she tries to run, kill her."

I'm not sure whether he said it to provoke Jasper again, or if he just doesn't trust me. I'm willing to bet it's most likely the former. Not only would I not run, but I'd heal right back up if they shot me anyway.

His order definitely got their attention. They look at each other. Tounnes nods resolutely and turns to enter one of the rooms. Jasper shakes his head and goes right after him. _I doubt they would actually hurt me.. Okay, Tounnes probably would._

When we're alone in the hallway, Brash leads me to one of the rooms. It's surprisingly large. A massive window for shooting arrows, a few pads to lie on, some books and a massive amount of cabinets with reagents. I approach those immediately, opening them and grabbing a few vials in my hands.

Looking at each closely, excitement fills my mind. So many memories come flooding readily. _Columbine, Nightshade, Wormwood, Lady's Smock, Ambrosia, and more. I could make so many things with these ingredients. I wish we had the tools._ I sigh, realising all of the things I know were gained from someone who is no longer alive.

"What, witch shit got you horny?" Brash inquires as he sits down next to the window, his head temporarily turned to me.

"It's just.. Suddenly, I can recall all the things I used to make daily. Salves and cures. Tinctures, solutions and extracts. I helped so many people. People who then yearned for my death." With sorrow overtaking my mood, I place the vials back into the cabinets. I begin examining the small library. Not many books are here, and I seem to have read them already. They're only the most common tales and legends.

Moving away from the library, I see Brash now fully focused on the outside. He's taken his sheathed sword off and placed it beside himself. We still need to clean the blood off. He doesn't seem to care, but I definitely do.

  
"Can I snoop around the lodge, Sir?"

"..Whatever. But no whoring. And come back quickly, or I'll have to go looking for you. And I'll be pissed."

I sigh, "Yeah, yeah. No whoring."

He doesn't respond, not even move. I leave the room and close the door. _Time to look for some water and a rag. And.. I should also make some food. The man said we can cook upstairs.  
  
_

Once I enter the upper floor, I see only one man - the one who greeted us. He's sitting next to a fireplace, warming his hands. Approaching him, I begin, "I'm sorry, can I ask for a bucket of water and some rags? We desperately need to wash blood off of us."

He doesn't turn to me. Doesn't speak. Only points behind himself, towards another door. "..Thanks," I speak out again, angrily this time. Opening the door, I notice a bunch of different casts, caskets and buckets. And a cistern full of rainwater. Grabbing one of the buckets, I fill it with water. When it's about half-full, I stop. No rags anywhere. I'll make do with some of the various cloth scattered around our room. Leaving this floor, I head back downstairs.

Brash sits at the exact same spot. Didn't move an inch. Carrying the bucket towards him, I let it down on the ground. He looks at me, then at the bucket and grimaces as if I'm mad. Ignoring his expression, I turn around and reach for one of the torn curtains. I tear it even more, until I have two, somewhat large rags.

"Here, for the blood," I say to Brash as I throw him one. I put mine next to the bucket. He's still stunned by the events unfolding. "I'll be right back." And without letting him say anything, I exit the room once more. We need to eat, as well.

  
Back I go, heading upstairs. The man sits exactly the same. _Whatever. He's not interested in talking, neither am I_. I make my way to the cooking pot. It's already prepared for me. _Perfect._ After a few hit and miss searches through some boxes, I now have all the necessary ingredients.

_I want to make the same soup I made for Brash before. I vaguely remember him saying he liked it. That was all during my fever, of course. I might be wrong._

Having cut and thrown everything into the pot, I mix and wait. Steps near me. I suppose it must be the man- "Finally, you're alone, Bright." _Right. Jasper._

Turning my head to him, I offer a polite smile. "You needed something? You can always talk to me, you know. Not only when we're alone." He comes nearer and sits down next to me, watching me mix the pot. His gaze weighs heavy on it.

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you. For a long time, now."

_Oh no. Don't.. Don't do it, Jasper._

He continues determinedly, as if he's rehearsed this speech in his head. "I'm not sure whether you've ever noticed, but.. I've always felt deep emotions towards you. Even when we were little - you, Mark and me."

_Fuck. He's doing it._

I bring my hand towards my mouth, covering it, as my eyes stay frozen in discomfort. I seem to have stopped mixing the pot. _There is no way I can exit this situation gracefully, is there?_

"..And they've only become stronger over the time we spent together; in the camp and on the road. I can't imagine my life without you, Bright. And I need to know how you feel about me."

_Someone kill me. What the fuck do I even say to that?_

Still petrified, I manage to grip the ladle again and mix the pot. _Okay, there is no easy way out, so I just have to.. say it._ Turning my head to Jasper, I offer another, sadder smile. 

"Jasper. You've always been an incredible friend to me. And I've never thought of you in another way. You're a great, kind, good person, and you **will** make a woman superbly happy one day. But it won't be me. I'm.. sorry. I really am."

Jasper doesn't react. We sit there in silence as I mix the pot. The thing that breaks the quiet isn't either of us. It's a foreign laugh. The man near the fireplace is the one producing it.

  
"Hahaha! You thought you had a chance? I barely saw you four and even **I** know her and the knight have it goin'. The fuckin' way they look at each other. You're a blind fool, my boy!" More laughing. 

Well, that was great. At least the soup is done now. Taking two bowls, I pour soup into each. One bigger, one smaller. Getting up and preparing to eat downstairs, Jasper stops me by my shoulder - nearly making me spill the soup. 

"..Is it true? You and.. **him**? You even made him food!" His voice almost sounds forceful, aggressive. Even his face reflects such mood. So unlike him.

With an innocent expression, I try to diffuse the ticking bomb named 'Jasper's hatred towards Brash'. "Well, he needs to eat, too. And of course it's not true. He couldn't care less about me. All that matters is the mission."

Jasper isn't buying that answer. I've never seen him express anger at me. Now he is, and I'm not sure what to expect. "So that's why he gave you his cloak? Why he doesn't let anyone close to you? Why he stops the group whenever you need it? Because he doesn't care? Right."

His tone is extremely aggravated and tensed. I doubt this will end well. "Jasper, even if it were true, I don't see how that's anyone's business. Why should what he does matter to you? Why should how I feel about him matter?"

He throws his hands in the air, as if I had just asked something obvious. Which.. I guess I did. "Because I like you. Because I despise him. He's cruel and vile. A disturbing creature. A murderer, a villain, a complete animal."

And I'm about done with this conversation. Whenever anyone says things like that about Brash, I just lose it. "It's almost as if I spent over a week hearing that from **everyone**. Can people just leave us alone? I don't care for your opinions about him, I have my own. You know, ones with **actual** information." Exiting the conversation resolutely, I turn in the direction of the staircase.

Jasper tries to stop me by grabbing my arm again, but I pull back. Once he lets go, the unfortunate happens. All of the soup spills out, one bowl on the ground, another right on me. _I. Am. Not. Happy._

"Great! That will surely win you all the favour with me. I'm already forgetting all about Brash!" I yell out at Jasper, and ignoring whatever he says next, I rush downstairs to my room. _Bothering with food. All wasted. For no reason._ Opening the door, I slam it right behind me. Brash turns around and examines my armor.

  
"How fucking useless are you? Did you manage to spill soup on-" I don't let him finish.

"NO. I. DIDN'T. Believe it or not, I am not that fucking incompetent," growling, I head towards the bucket I placed down earlier. " And, yeah, no food. Fuck it. Who needs to eat! Actually, I'll just eat off my armor! I'm sure the blood only gave it the spice it always needed!" I bark out. Examining the water, it's barely bloodied. Brash only washed his face and neck.

At first amused, he furrows his eyebrows at my exasperation. "The fuck happened, then? Someone blew your fuse, clearly. Not that it's too hard."

Sitting down, I grab my piece of clean cloth and dip it in water. Putting it over my skin, I clean my face, neck, arms and stomach from blood and soup. I can clean the armor later. Breathing deep, deep breaths, I begin calming down.

"Jasper had an issue. I said something. He said something. That fucking watchman joined. Before I knew it, Jasper pulled me by my arm and soup flew right on my armor. So, all in all, great rest stop so far. I'll have to go make food again."

Brash watches me as I clean myself off, telling him what happened. When I'm done talking, he turns to his side and grabs one of his bags. Pulling out a few veiled packages, he assures me, "I've got food. You never even had to leave the room. Just ask next time you want to eat, fuck's sake. Now you're all wet and it's not even my fault!" A perverted sneer.

  
Throwing me one of the packages, he asks, "What did the twat want? Should I prepare to beat the shit out of him?"

As I untie its knot, I answer, "Well, no, but.. You don't want to know. Believe me. It was.. quite uncomfortable."

While he undoes the knot protecting his food, he scoffs sharply. "What, did he finally tell you how much he loves you?"

With a shocked expression, I look up from the package and right at him. "How.. How did you know?"

"First of all, it was painfully obvious," he takes a bite of a piece of meat, "And second of all, I could hear the entire thing. I just wanted to see what answer you'd come up with. This ceiling isn't very soundproof." With another sleazy sneer, he adds, "A shame, huh? Could have had the night all to ourselves." And he laughs heartily.

_Yeah.. If only. Ghh._

"Hilarious." Taking out the food and devouring it, I ask, "So, you heard everything?"

"That's right," he chuckles. "Trying to defend me? Even saying my name with your adorable, furious voice? Precious." I can't say whether he means it or not, but he isn't mocking or ridiculing me in tone.

"I just hate when people say all that stuff about you. However true. You can't change the past, you can't fix your mistakes. Knowing oneself means acknowledging ones actions."

Brash stops eating and stares at me. "I'll have to confiscate the books from you."

I open my mouth, eyes widening. "What?! Why? What did I say?" I bark out the questions.

Resuming eating, he grins, "Nothing. You're too big of a smart-ass. At least I can see the latter on my own. How did you even fit the armor on with such a fat fucking butt?" He's glaring at my behind ferociously.

Squinting at him, I growl, "..Bastard. Belts make it adjustable. And.. please, stop eyeing it so viciously."

A scoff. "If I really wanted your ass, we'd have trouble finding you new clothes."

I shudder at the thought. That incident.. _No. Don't think about it. It was just.. all of the adrenaline. Completely meaningless._

We're both done eating. 

"What do we do now? You mentioned some training earlier."

"When do you want it - now or tomorrow?"

"..Tomorrow."

"Fine."  
  


Alright, now it's time to clean my armor. The easiest parts are legs, since I don't have to clean those. On the other hand, my chest armor needs to be taken off to be cleaned properly. And I don't have a shirt underneath anymore. So, either I temporarily expose myself while cleaning it, or I ask Brash to clean the back of it. _I sure wonder what he'll do. There is **no way** he'd refuse, just to gawk and make me uncomfortable._

"Sir,.." I exhale dejectedly, "could you please clean the back of my armor? I can't reach there."

An amused smirk widens through his entire expression. "Oh, **really**? Why not just take it off? You can clean it like that."

I exclaim, "I can't. You know better than anyone that I have no shirt underneath."

A thunderous, malicious laugh. "No way! I guess you have no other choice, then. I won't tell anyone, kitten."

"Will you at least turn away?"

"Fuck no."

"..Please?"

He groans, "Of course I'll go. I thought you'd know I was just fucking with you." Getting up, he heads towards the door. "Tell me when you're done," and he leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

_That went better than I expected._

Unbuckling the belts, I take my armor off. It looks absolutely demolished. With a wet rag, I begin cleaning the back of it carefully. Now the sides. And finally, the front. Next, I wash my chest. The armor sat on it for **days**. I'm incredibly dirty. Not for much longer. When I'm done, I put the armor back on, buckling the belts again.

Clearing my throat, I call Brash back: "I'm done." He enters shortly after, returning back to where he sat before, staring out of the window into nothingness.

  
"Need help with cleaning your armor?" I offer.

"I can do it myself. Unlike you, some actually wear shit underneath." His tone changed, he's back to being the good old annoyed and pissed Brash. Without responding, I get up from the ground and begin looking for a place to sleep. A few pads seem comfortable enough to allow rest. Taking one in the corner of the room opposite to where he sits, I lie down.

 _I haven't slept without my armor for ages. This is the first time I even have the chance_. I begin taking my boots off. Next, forearm bracers, then thigh bracers - weapons follow them.

Lying down on my side, I watch Brash for a while. Something must be quite captivating outside, he hasn't stopped staring in that direction. Bringing my right hand closer to my face, I examine the ring again. _I wonder just how powerful it is. I'd also love to know why he put it on **that** finger._ A question enters my mind.

  
"Are you married?"

His head staggers and turns towards me in an unusually cautious fashion, revealing his fully stupefied expression. "What in the name of fuck? Do I look like I'm married?"

I shrug, "What do married people look like?"

"I don't know, probably stuck in some shithole house, drinking themselves to death? ..Why would you even ask about that?"

Still looking at the ring, I blurt out, "Just wondering, considering your..age? I wanted to make sure."

He laughs, "Well I could have been all yours, if you hadn't earned yourself a life-sentence while being with a different law-officer."

  
An uncomfortable pause. He interrupts it.

  
"I only know of two Scarcewall knights who are married. Both widowers."

Unsure of what exactly he's saying, I ask, "You people.. don't kill your women, do you?"

He scoffs bitterly, "Me? Never. Others, though, I'm not sure. I find it in bad taste to kill something you've fucked. Or fuck something you're going to kill. Just seems fucking rude, if nothing else. "

  
Another uncomfortable pause. _I really know how to pick my topics._

  
"What's Scarcewall like? An impenetrable fortress? A massive city?"

He grins sadly, perhaps longing for his home. "Bigger than you can imagine. Stone walls, colossal Palace. It's my favourite place in the whole world. All I need is a nice inn where nobody dares take my place or refuse my order. I fucking miss Scarcewall."

I smile at the depiction, it sounds like he truly adores the place. "I suppose you can't wait to go back."

"That's right. I've got **a lot** of drinking awaiting me."

Scoffing at his desire, I ask, "So all you want to do when you return is drink?"

Now turning his head to me, he throws me a hungry smirk. "Not **just** drinking," he says, nodding towards my butt.

"Do I inspire you in that regard?"

His expression turns surprisingly serious. "..You're a good kitten. One just like I've always wanted. But at a completely wrong fucking time."

_Right.. the war._

And, once again, another uncomfortable pause. I have managed to completely tank the mood. _At least I'm finally getting to talk to Brash about some things. Words weighed heavy on my heart._

  
"Right, I should have done it earlier. Thank you for the brush and.. everything else."

"Yeah," he brushes me off with one word.

_Oh, I still have his cloak._

"Want the cloak back now? I have it folded in the bag."

I see him thinking about it. "..No, I'll take it after we're done. Cover yourself with it, the night will get fucking cold, believe me."

I nod, reaching to the bag and taking the cloak out, spreading it over my body. I'm back in its soft, warm embrace. With everything ready and lying in a comfortable spot, my eyes begin closing. "Thank you."

And my eyelids shut. It's too warm in here, too cosy.

Time to meet Mors again.  
  



	7. Prelude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dream unlike any other, revealing more than expected.

Sitting on a comfortable, exquisite chair, I play with my regally woven hair. A servant girl arrives, placing my requested glass of wine onto the table in front of me. With a curtsy she leaves, heading into the fully occupied palace hall. An absurd amount of people are around - dancing, sitting, conversing. A high-level company. Everyone's wearing luxurious dresses, showing off their majestic hairstyles and flaunting their wealth with accessories. 

My dress extends all the way to the ground, covering my feet completely. A beautiful silver dress with lace ornaments at the cleavage and at the very bottom. Its shape perfectly hugs my torso, then extends wide down my waist.

Two women sit next to me, to my left. A blonde and a dark-haired one. Perfidy and Viper. Both also dressed in the finest of dresses, offering the most polite, forced smiles. For some reason, I trust them, even though I know nothing about either of the women.

  
"My, my! Bright, you look tremendous today. What's the occasion? Expecting someone?" Viper, the blonde, laughs with a completely open mouth, showing me all her teeth with intention.

"Surely! Viper, just look at her! She's positively shining. You can feel all the energy, all that desire!" Perfidy, the brunette, joins in the terrifying laughter. Both of them seem almost possessed, but still human-like enough for me to not mind.

I smile mischievously, "Perhaps. Have you watched the knighting, ladies? That new knight.. Ahh," I finish with a longing exhale, lifting my head towards the ceiling. A ceiling masterfully decorated to the last detail.

Another laugh comes from the two women. " **That** knight? My dear, you sure know how to pick them. He's **nothing**! **Worthless**!" Perfidy exclaims. "Just look at Lord Mace. Now, **he's** a catch!" Looking at her again, I see she's pointing towards the exclusive part of the hall, right at the very end. A table stands in the center of it, only a few people sit there. I suppose it must be the Scarcewall council with Lord Mace in the middle.

He's wearing a majestic blue-black suit with a white sash in the middle. The colours of Scarcewall. Imagining Mace's face is rather difficult, since I've never seen him before. All I see is a blank canvas full of domination.

Turning back to Perfidy, I ask her, "Why should I care for Lord Mace? He does not strike me as the type who would be interested in me." They both laugh again. Viper answers, "But he **is** interested in you! We heard him speak about you quite a few times. So very, very interested."

With a somewhat shocked expression, I lightly laugh and then glance at Lord Mace again. Now he's looking at me. Watching me. I can feel his intense stare piercing my soul. My breathing intensifies in fear. A voice interrupts my thoughts full of dread.

  
From somewhere to my right, I hear a question asked in a soft tone, "Care for a dance, kitten?"

Turning towards the voice, I see the knight I mentioned being interested in earlier. The blonde, scarred knight with a black eye. A graceful yet severe look falls on me. An elegant and perfectly fitting suit hugs his body - Scarcewall colours. His sash is different from everyone else's. Crimson. He's offering me his hand, looking into my eyes for an answer. An answer to a different question than the one he asked. An unspoken question of hunger and mystery.

I smile at him hopefully, "I'd love to."

Placing my hand in his, he squeezes it and helps me stand up from the chair, offering a short bow of his head. I return the favour with the same movement. Turning to look at Viper and Perfidy, I see them both hissing at the knight. At both of us, actually. Viciously and murderously. But the knight cares not. Leading me to the center of the greatly spacious hall, both our hands lock together while our bodies near, ready to dance to the symphony created by an orchestra.

  
Step one. Step two. Step three.

  
"May I ask for your name, Sir?" I ask innocently.

Narrowing his eyes, he smiles widely. "Sir Brash. And what may I call you, apart from 'beautiful'?"

  
Step one. Step two. Turn.

  
I can't even bring myself to answer, only keep staring at him longingly, nearly sadly. _This isn't real. This can never be real._

Laughing mildly, he grins. "Cat got your tongue?"

  
Step one. Spin. Step two.

  
Leaning my head on his chest, we continue dancing. I can feel his heart beating rapidly. Closing my eyes, I sigh, taken over by sorrow and uncertainty. "Brash, would you take me to Scarcewall with you? I don't mean the palace. I mean.. anywhere."

Placing his head over mine, carefully notifying me of its presence with his jaw, he pulls me in closer, keeping up with the steps. "I wish I could, sweetheart. But I'm afraid that won't be possible. You-"

No more steps follow. His heart stops beating. Shocked, I look up. No movement. Anywhere in the hall. Everything is frozen again.

_Ah, right. Mors._

  
"YES."

  
"That was.. quite the unfortunate timing."

  
"ON PURPOSE."

"YOU MAY RETURN TO IT AFTER WE ARE FINISHED."

  
Moving away from Brash's body, I breathe in and out to recover some composure. "Alright then. What do we do?" Instead of responding, Mors changes the entire scene of the dream back to the dark, terrifying place she showed me last time. No more guests. No more ballroom. No more Brash.

  
"FIRST, GIVE ME A BODY."

  
Grimacing unsurely, I inquire, "Uhm.. I beg your pardon?"

  
"IMAGINE A BODY."

"ANY BODY WILL DO."

"PREFERABLY HUMAN ONE."  
  


 _..Right. Okay_. Mors said she's the one leading. A woman. A female body, then. The first thing that appears is Sybil. **_Nope._** I think harder. Now it's Rose. I suppose I could have thought of Orchid, but Mors mentioned 'training' before, so Rose came up instead.

Rose's lifeless body stares at me blankly, at first. Quickly enough, it shakes in its entirety. Rapid breaths. "Good choice. Thank you." The voice that exits Rose's mouth isn't hers. It's a twisted version of it, mostly blended with that unsettling tone Mors speaks in.

Clearing my throat, I prepare for whatever is to come. "So, what now? Do we train combat, or..?"

A deadpan stare. So incredibly uncommon to see on Rose. This might take a while to get used to. "Yes, but not like you and your warrior do. We need to realise your true potential as a pale. Sorin wasted time on words when he should have trained you. What a pathetic excuse for an overlord."

 _She really despises him. Which doesn't come as a surprise._ "What would that potential be? I was told pales are killed specifically for their power, but know nothing more," I share the extent of my knowledge.

Mors approaches determinedly, stopping only when reaching my body, separating us by a few inches. One of her hands lifts up. She starts touching my face and then hair. Still a blank look. "Interesting."

_What the fuck._

With a bewildered expression, I interrupt her, "M-Mors?"

She stops examining me immediately and steps further back. "Your potential - physical, cognitive or one of syndicate. Having seen your dreams, I could not determine which one lies as your dominant one unambiguously."

Of course, that was normal. Anyway.. This somewhat reminds me of when Brash wanted to figure out my demonic power. _I suppose another series of tests?_

"Not today."

I cringe at my own stupidity, "..Right. You can hear me."

"Each of these potentials are directly related to our opposition's abilities - white, red and black. Watch. I may demonstrate them all."

  
Mors turns away from me, summoning an entire army of faceless soldiers around us, surrounding us in a circle.

"Physical - red."

She summons two swords into her hands, taking a stance I've not seen used anywhere before. As the soldiers close in on us, she moves with incredible speed, power and precision, swinging the swords at the soldiers. Even the force of wind she slashes through is enough to send them back. And before I know it, all of them are lying dead, dismembered.

With an open mouth, I ask, "Can you.. do this even outside of dreams?"

"Could. Before banishment. Next, cognitive - black."

Without a pause, she summons the soldiers again. Once more, we find ourselves surrounded. This time Mors doesn't summon weapons. Moving her hands in different directions, one up, another to the side, she chants an incantation. As the soldiers approach, they seem to collide with an invisible barrier. The ones that touch it disintegrate. When the others stop approaching, she brings her palms together and with a snap, separates them instantly. All the remaining soldiers fall to the ground. Screaming in pain, clutching their heads in their hands, some claw their eyes out while others end the suffering with their own sword.

 _What the fuck._ "How can you be so powerful?! I thought each Inquisitor excels in their own area. You seem to possess an incredible ability over them all!"

Mors laughs lungfully before her reaction snaps into nothingness, voice restrained to a fault. "Lim would not care, but Kanaz would ridicule me for my slowness. Nevon would attempt to cut me down if he witnessed my imprecision. I excel in enacting Death where I see fit. They excel in following commands punctually."

 _Gods.._ My entire body stands petrified. Whatever is unfolding right in front of me, I know it's something of unimaginable power.

Mors stiffens her posture and continues, "Lastly, syndicate - white."

More soldiers. Mors summons a deadly pit to her right. Next, a blazing pyre. She bids to a few soldiers and points at the pit. "Go." They move to it and jump towards their painful death. Another motion to different soldiers, towards the pyre. "Go." They approach it. A few of them throw their living comrades in before lying down themselves. Screams of terror fill the entire plane. Last group of soldiers. She bids half of them, "Go." They ready their weapons and fight the others until one half remains standing. Even the survivors are not safe. They impale themselves on their swords. She destroyed the entire army by mere commands of self-destruction.

  
Having finished her demonstration, she turns to me again and walks closer, about five feet away now. "These are our abilities. Of course, yours will pale in the light of mine. I am a God compared to you, demonheart."

Someone seems rather full of themselves. Squinting at her, I reply, "No need to be rude."

"I did not mean to be. It is merely a fact. Now, after a moment of consideration, I've come to a feeling that your potential grows towards cognitive. Seeing you materialise weapons and armor from thin air last time, this only supports my theory."

Curious as to what exactly she means, I ask, "Are you saying.. I could do that in reality, too?"

A short laugh. "Only with months of training lead **by** **me**. Which we do not have. All you may learn within the given time period is control. And even then, only a specific kind." Control. Tounnes asked me about control magic and whether I practiced it with Orchid. Does this mean Mors would teach me spells? 

"So, I would become a witch?"

"No. Witches **wish** they had your potential. Of course, they are infinitely more dangerous than you are, currently. Years of training will defeat your powers. It is destiny."

"Are you saying the witch will kill me?" I inquire fearfully.

"I've given you enough answers to lead you to a conclusion. I know you're intelligent enough to connect things together. Either way, worry about your training. If you wish to save yourself and your warrior, you must conquer your given potential."

 _Are we **both** in mortal danger? Gods, how come everything is so fucked all of a sudden? _ I wasn't aware of how bad things apparently are. It seems I need to focus fully on this 'potential' training. Cognitive potential, supposedly. Mors displayed it by dismantling the army with spells, like a witch would. 

"How can I do that?" I inquire shakily.

"Object control. Ground control. Element control. Since you have not studied magic with your witch, you are at a massive disadvantage. You have never done it purposely, either. Only instinctively. Use your intuition."

Mors summons a dagger from thin air and points it to me. I try to reach for it, but she moves it away. "With your mind. Open your palm and pull the handle into it. Doing this in dreams is considerably easier than in reality. So, show me."

  
With a constant wide-eyed look, I open my palm and focus on the dagger.   
  
Focusing on it fully.   
Imagining its handle entering my palm.   
Imagining holding it.   
Again.   
Again.   
Again.   
It moves.   
It's in my hand now.   
I stare at it in disbelief.

  
"Very good. You are aware of your ability. Practise it. Not only with objects, but with everything else," she elaborates. "I must leave now. Assuming this form exhausts me extremely. Good luck, demonheart," with a mild frown, she says her goodbye. Right after that, Mors leaves Rose's body. It falls down to the ground, lifeless once more. Spending a long time purely on breathing in and out, a million thoughts enter my head. So much happened just now. Too much to process at once.

_  
Alright. I think I've had enough of this disturbing, dark plane for today.  
  
_

Closing my eyes, I think back to the dream. Silver dress. Two snakes. Royal hall. The Scarcewall council. High-level guests. My knight. When I open my eyes again, I'm right back where Mors froze the dream.

"-will know why, soon. There is nothing I can do to prevent it." Brash dejectedly continues where he left off. Holding my hands, pressing his head to the side of mine, moving me in half-circles.

"Am I going to die?"

Brash doesn't answer. He only holds me closer.

"Brash?"

Nothing. Something piques his interest. Something I'm holding. The dagger from Mors, it's still in my hands. Taking it from my grasp, he examines it.

"Brash!"

No words. No expression. He only stares at the dagger. Coming closer to him to look into his eyes, I see they're.. nearly watery. Only barely, though. If at all.

Lifting his head, he looks at me and says, "I'm so sorry, kitten, sweetie."

"What for?"

Nothing. An empty look.

Scared, I yell out, "Brash!"

Closing the distance, he kisses me desperately, before..

  
A sharpness enters my chest, right at my heart.

His face holds still in a blank.

Blood pours from my wound.

A dagger.

He's clutching its handle.

Blood veils my dress completely, turning it red from silver.

Crimson red slowly drowns the whole hall.

All of the guests are engulfed by it.

When there is no more air for us to breathe, Brash leans in close and kisses me one last time.

A true kiss of guilt and sorrow.

  
I awake.  
  



	8. Serpent's Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An awakening in the lodge, followed by a short combat training between Bright and Brash.

My body shakes side to side.

Something is determined to stop me from dreaming.

"Wake up! Nothing's happening. Everything's fine."

Continuous shaking.

Only now do my eyes begin opening.

_  
My heart. Another death._

  
Rapidly, I get up from the pads I slept on, grabbing the first thing I can, taken by fear. It's Brash's armor, the top edge of it. He's sitting on the floor next to me. With heavy panting, I am coming to only slowly. Deep breaths. 

"You kept saying my name in your sleep. If I didn't know better, I'd think you dreamt of me fucking you!" A laugh, laced with concern. "..You okay, kitty girl?" Bringing his face in front of mine, he examines my expression with interest.

I nod weakly.

Once I notice where my hand is resting, I pull it back immediately and grip it in my other hand. "..Sorry. A bad dream. I have them often, nearly every night." His lips form a frown as he retreats his head and slowly stands up, walking off to where he sat yesterday. He doesn't sit down, though. Rather, he picks something up and returns back to my sleeping area. 

"Here," he says, handing me a bowl of soup, averting his gaze. "You tried yesterday. Just don't spill it all over yourself again." He sits down beside me just like he did a moment ago. Another bowl is in his hand. Brash pours a small portion of its contents into his mouth.

Examining my own bowl, I notice the soup looks rather odd. Bits of things I've never seen before are floating in it. "I'm grateful, but.. can I ask what you put in it?" He snickers at my question. "I don't know, whatever I found first," he says as more gulps flow down his throat. "It's not awful." 

_It's going to be bad, isn't it? Just like Orchid and her.. 'Vaytos' demon meals. Alright, let's give it a go._

Moving the bowl close to my mouth, I let some of the liquid in and swallow.   
  


_Okay.. Well.. It's definitely not as bad as Orchid's._

Expressing a variety of emotions, I exclaim, "It's,, not bad! Definitely a unique taste." Brash chuckles as he watches my pretended enthusiasm. "You don't have to lie. It's shit, but it's food." Finishing the meal in silence, he gets up from the ground and walks to the window. His sword lies underneath it. He picks it up and sheaths it on his back.

Reaching for my bag to pull the journal out, I find that it isn't there. Actually, all of the armor parts I took off, together with my weapons, are gone. I spot them in the opposite corner, one where Brash sat last night. Seeing my realisation, he answers the obvious question emotionlessly, "I had a search through your stuff. Needed to make sure you weren't going to kill me off like you did with Bold."

Astounded, I remain speechless. _Did he.. find the poison? Did he read my journal? Thanks to Mors, I deleted any mentions of important things, so hopefully nothing bad remains._

Grinning maliciously, he continues, "Nice journal, by the way."

_Fuck._

"I wasn't aware you're dreaming of me so often!" He laughs amusedly as I cover my face in shame. _I can't believe he read it_. Thank Gods I striked the emotional garbage out. Thinking about him reading it makes me uncomfortable. All of my thoughts and dreams being out in the open.

"Don't be ashamed, now. I'm sure a lot of women dream about my cock inside them. I just didn't think you'd whore yourself to me in your head." And another laugh. Furious at the insinuation, I turn to him and yell, "It's nothing like that, you bastard! Those dreams are fucking dark and demoralising," before turning back and burying my face in the cloak.

He scoffs. "I know, you idiot. Think I just read my name? You keep writing about me killing you," he snickers. "You're pretty fucked up, huh?" Shaking his head, he puts the journal inside my bag and pulls something else out. The poison vial. It's nearly empty, a tiny amount is left.

  
"The real find is **this**. You wanted to poison me with your 'soup' yesterday?" he barks out angrily, shaking the vial in his hands.

Staggered, I stare at it for a moment. "Of course not! Why would I do that?" I ask honestly, looking for some form of understanding.

His expression doesn't relax. "Because you're a crazy bitch and I'm just some cunt keeping you from your freedom? Well, guess what," he drops the bag and begins opening the vial, "I'll make it easier for you," and as he says that, he drinks the remains of the vial, shattering it on the floor afterwards.  
  


My heart stops.

He drank the poison.

It's gone.

There.. isn't time!

  
I spring up from the pads instantly and collide with the reagents cabinet. Frantically looking for coal and life-root, knocking all of the vials aside in panic, I grab the ones I'm looking for. _He's going to die if I don't act faster!_

Jumping to where he's sitting, I painfully drop down on my knees in front of him, eyes slowly tearing. "Eat it! You need to throw up, quickly!" I plead with him to take the coal and life-root. He does nothing, just stares at me in silence. His furious expression is gone, instead of it a confused face meets mine.

"..As if you'd care."

"Take it, please!"

Some anger returns to his voice. "I didn't fucking drink the poison, you moron. I spilled it and put water in. If I knew you'd freak out this much, I wouldn't have bothered." Letting his words sink in, I realise it was all just some disgusting prank.

With a broken-hearted look, I whimper, "You.. made me think.. you poisoned yourself.. as a joke?"

"Yeah," interruping his gaze, he stands up and moves me aside to exit the room, "Your reaction wasn't worth it. Meet me in the hallway when you're ready to train," and he's gone.

  
Still kneeling in the same position, my breathing keeps heavy. _He's so horrible. Reading my journal. Pretending to poison himself. He must be getting some wicked form of enjoyment out of seeing me in pain. But I should have known that already. It's my own fault for expecting anything else._ Quickly blinking a couple of times, I chase my sorrow away, or at least postpone it. Since I'm already in this corner, might as well calm down while putting my armor back on.

Bracers, boots and a few belts. Done. Weapons in the bracers. Bag on my shoulder. Only missing the poison. I can't even create a substitute with all the reagents around me - no proper tools. And lastly, the cloak. I'm feeling daring, so I pin it over myself. _Like a true Scarcewaller._

I chuckle quietly.  
  


Now that I'm in the room alone, I wonder about practising my control. Doing that in front of Brash would probably earn me another beheading - his love for witches is obvious. _I might not get this opportunity again._

Pulling out the dagger, I place it on the ground in front of myself.  
My palm waits ready, opened.  
Focusing on the dagger's handle, I imagine it flying to me.  
Entering my palm.  
Weighing my hand down.  
Again.  
Again.  
Once more.  
The dagger wiggles slightly, but that's it.   
It doesn't lift from the ground.

_This will be extremely difficult, won't it?_

  
With a defeated sigh, I pick the dagger up and slide it back into my bracers. Exiting the room, I see Brash impatiently playing with his unsheathed sword. "The fuck took you so long? Needed time to prepare more poisons?" he asks with a blank look.

Unamused and definitely irritated, I answer, "Sure I did. Who knows where I might be hiding it. I'm fucked in the head, after all."

His expressionlessness breaks with a weak laugh. Seeing the cloak around my back, he grins. "Looks good on you. A proper Scarcewall wench knight." I only manage to cringe at his words before he continues. "Let's go already, you seem in the right mood for some pain."

  
Lifting a wooden barrier, he unlocks the door. 

  
Once we're outside, I notice just how beautiful the forest is. All of the colours. As if painted on, the leaves move in a virtuous dance. Falling gracefully towards the ground. Brash leads me somewhere through the forest, most likely away from the sight of the watchmen. I can't imagine what their reaction would be, seeing my demonic speed. 

When we're somewhat far away, hidden behind enough trees, he stops in his tracks and turns to me with a diabolical grin. "Pull your weapons out."

So I do.  
  


"Last time we trained, it was a simple sparring session. I didn't want to actually hurt you. Now I will."

Taking a step back and tightening the grip on my weapons, I ask fearfully, "You **want** to hurt me?"

He rolls his eyes, even his entire head. "Still the same deaf, dumb fucking whore as always. We're fighting for real now. I'll go against you hard. You better defend yourself, or you'll have to use your petty resurrection ability." When Brash finishes, he readies his sword and takes a heavy, threatening stance.

I unpin the cloak and throw it to the ground with my bag. They would only slow me down. And against Brash I need all the help I can get. He won't pull his swings, I can see it in his eyes. That fire. Relaxing my breathing, I focus my entire being on his sword and steps - they will reveal his next attack. With a determined shrug, I bring my weapons into guard. Widen my stance.  
  


"Are you scared, 'tiger'?"

"Should I be?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm not."

  
With a ferocious sneer, he charges right at me. A powerful swing at my legs, then a piercing stab towards my chest. All barely dodged. His attacks are completely different from what they used to be during our sparring. This time he's attempting to expose my weak spots and honestly wound me.

A couple of fast dodges. He stops the attacks for only a moment. "First thing I said: 'Ground your attacks in proper footing'. So fucking do it."

And he resumes the deadly hits and swings. _Fuck, he's tough._ Deflecting is incredibly painful. I can feel liquid somewhere on my skin; blood. Hopefully I heal fast enough. My only remaining option is avoiding his attacks. He knows that, together with the fact that it tires me immensely.

His next few strikes allow a retaliation of my own. I can't get a hit in, but I'm realising how quick and easy it is, switching from guard to attack. Finally, he has to switch his own stances as well. That's all that matters. Shoving me away from him during one of his defences, he continues, "Next: 'Never expose your back to the enemy.' You will die otherwise."

Another lunge. My arms weigh much heavier than before, I swing them incredibly fast to avoid his hits. My stomach definitely got wounded. I can feel a stinging sensation from the side and from my arms. No time to look. No time to worry. Always keeping Brash in front of me, I never allow him access to my back. That isn't for his lack of attempts, though. I manage to retreat in time, but get hit in the arms in a consequence.

A completely new attack; he doesn't swing with his sword, instead he charges at my head with an elbow. Surprised at first, I react by dropping my entire body to the ground and rolling backwards, away from him. When I stand up again, he continues wrathfully, "Lastly: 'Never try to overpower a stronger opponent.' Fuck the fourth one, we can't practise that. Just don't throw your fucking weapon."

Another charge. Deflection is necessary. The tip of my guard sword slices my arm. I suppose that's how I got the injuries. More swings target my head. He's trying to force my into deflecting. Focusing on dodging each attack, no matter how taxing, I manage to avoid them all. In return for that, my legs start trembling from the intense exhaustion.

He persists. I feel like he's honestly going to kill me. If we keep fighting any longer, he truly will. I only have so much energy to stay up, dodge, deflect and attack. My physique is no match to his. Regardless of my speed, his endurance and strength win in true combat.

  
And with one last swing, this time not with the edge of the sword, he sends me flying to the ground. Once I hit it, face first, I hear him bury the blade into soil, leaning on the handle. "You're still weak. True, your body doesn't help you in that regard, but you're just a weak demonheart. Not that it matters. You won't be killing the witch anyway, that's up to me."

Even though I'm hearing his words, I'm not listening. Every bone, every muscle, every inch of my skin kills. Pushing myself on the back, I examine my arms for the first time. A vast amount of small wounds. Some haven't healed yet, others have already disappeared, only leaving stripes of blood as a reminder. Lifting my head to look at my stomach, a massive amount of blood catches my attention. No wound. Just like with Rose and her spontanious stab - a lot of blood, wound quickly healed. No pain this time. Too much adrenaline, I assume. 

"Sorry about the wounds. I don't like hurting you, but.. I'd rather it happens here than with someone who'd honestly kill you. Hope you understand that," he tries to reassure me in a low, calm voice.

Looking up at him for the first time, I see his expression twisted into worry, but still prevailing in anger. "I guess I understand," I mumble out. "I suppose there is no way I can ever beat you?"

He laughs and steps closer, "I've trained for years, done physical work my entire life. It would take you **quite** a while to beat me, even as a demonheart." Leaning over me as I lie on the ground, he asks, "Want me to help you up?"

I exhale defeatedly and nod. He throws me a satisfied, nearly joyous grin.

Putting one of his arms under my knees and forcing the other under my back, he lifts me up, pressing my exhausted body to his chest. "Would you be 'so kind' as to pull my sword out and carry it for me?" he asks deviously. "I won't drop you down on your ass as a reward!" An amused, thunderous laugh.

"..Of course," I respond with a weak smirk.

Heading to the sword, he positions me just so my arm can reach the handle. It takes a strong tug, but I get it out. _Gods, it's heavy!_ My other hand flies to it immediately, it would escape my grasp otherwise. Seeing my effort, he smirks, "Such a tiny kitten. Hold it tight. I wouldn't trust anyone else with it." Brash begins walking in the direction of the lodge, leading us both back.

Exhausted and worn out from the training, I murmur semi-unconsciously, "Are you.. hungry? I.. can make soup, if you want... You made me food, after all."

Pulling his arms closer together, he also pulls me closer to himself, my head now resting right below his. It almost feels like he's gently rubbing it with his chin. In a whisper, he responds, "I vividly remember a small kitty cat from a few days ago, telling me she made me food because I bought her a book. And that I shouldn't get used to being fed by her. What happened to that, I wonder?"

Making myself comfortable, pressing my head to his neck, I reply weakly, "She's an.. idiot. A total one. You wouldn't.. like her. People say.. she's crazy."

Brash chuckles, "Is she?" I feel him kiss me softly into my hair, "Maybe just a bit. But that's why I like her. A perfect little kitten." Lifting my surprised gaze to see his expression, he smirks at me. "You did really well today, lasted much longer than I anticipated," he inspires confidence. "Rest. I'll be right-"

  
Brash's entire body shakes. Suddenly, I'm dropped to the ground, sword falling underneath me. _What the.. hells?_ Moving my head to see what happened, I witness Brash falling down to his knees. A blank look. Right after, his face collides with the ground, as if he spontaniously passed out. Once his head drops, I see something sticking out of his neck. A dart of some kind.

Two figures appear from behind two different trees. Both female. Upon approach, I notice a familiar symbol on their armor. The same one I have on mine. The same one on the dagger. _Serpents?_

"Gods, he's such a difficult bastard. I thought he'd never let his guard down," one says, annoyed. She's a blonde, young woman.

"Who cares. We've got them now. Motion Sarae to bring the cart. And pick up all their shit, too," the other barks out. A dark-haired woman this time. They both seem.. somewhat familiar.

The dark-haired one notices me being conscious and chuckles, "My, Sarae missed your fucking shot, didn't she? Well, she'll pay for that. Either way, time to sleep, beautiful!" and when she's near enough, she hits my neck with a targeted and precise punch. 

I pass out right after.

Completely vulnerable.

Uncertain of mine and Brash's fate.


	9. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A 'dream' sequence, Mors offers Bright desperately needed guidance.

Darkness. Cold. Death.

Opening my eyes, I see only pitch black. I find myself on the ground, vulnerable and alone. A vast, dark, terrifying plane extends around me.

_This isn't real._

I manage to muster enough strength to stand up. The place I'm currently in looks awfully like where Mors always brings me. She called it her 'home'. I suppose it must be what Oblivion looks like. She could have also meant the pale Hell. Or maybe her own domain? 

A lightning bolt strikes down from the sky. A single bolt. Thunderous echo repeats and sounds through the area.

  
"Mors? Are you here?"

No answer.

_So, she didn't bring me here? Maybe I did it, then. But why am I dreaming? I remember training with Brash. Did I pass out?_

'Weak demonheart.'

'That's why I like her.'

_Wait._

'Difficult bastard.'

'We've got them, now.'

Freezing in place, I realise what happened. Someone surprised us. A dart with some kind of a sedative was shot at Brash. 

'Sarae missed your shot?'

I was supposed to be sedated, too. But I saw them. Two women. They awfully remind me of the two from my last dream. Viper and Perfidy? How could I have known their appearance before meeting them? Just like with other things, other places and people. _How-_

  
"I AM HERE."

"SPENT MY TIME FIGURING OUT YOUR BEST OPTION."

"YOUR LIFE HANGS BY A THIN THREAD."

"FOLLOW MY WORDS PRECISELY, OR PERISH AT THE HANDS OF SNAKES."

  
Trying to remain calm, I clutch my hands in fists and tense my stomach. I need to listen to Mors. Her advice has so far only helped me. And this time, I feel I won't survive without her.

  
"SERPENTS TOOK YOU."

"ORDERS GIVEN BY ACOLYTES OF SORIN."

"YOU LEFT HIM ANGERED."

"HIS REVENGE SHALL BE SWIFT."

"BUT THE SERPENTS KNOW NOT OF YOUR NATURE."

"IF YOU ARE TO SURVIVE, CONVINCE THEM OF BEING RED."

" **NOBODY** EVER NEEDS REDS."

"YOU WILL BE KEPT FOR A CONTEST IF SUCCESSFUL."

"SORIN ONLY REQUESTED YOUR DEATH."

"USE THAT TO YOUR ADVANTAGE."

  
Overwhelmed by the severity of the situation, I can't even bring myself to respond.

  
"ONCE LEFT WITH NO OTHER CHOICE, GRASP YOUR AMULET."

"REPEAT AFTER ME."

  
"VITA AD VITA."  
 _Vita ad vita._  
"DOLOR AD DOLOR."  
 _Dolor ad dolor._  
"MORTEM AD MORTEM."  
 _Mortem ad mortem._

  
"OUR CALLING."

"ONCE SPOKEN, I WILL BE ABLE TO SAVE YOU."

"YOUR SOUL ALLOWS ME SUCH OPTION."

"BUT YOUR LIFE WILL BE FORFEIT."

"YOUR INFERNAL AMULET LETS ME EXECUTE THIS SACRIFICIAL SPELL."

"CHOOSE THE TIMING WISELY, YOU WILL BE EXPOSED."

 _  
I'll die to save myself?_ Weakly and in a stutter, I ask, "There is no other option for me? Am I truly so doomed?"

  
"YES."

"THE SERPENTS ARE A BLACK GUILD."

"NOBODY ESCAPES THEM WITHOUT A SACRIFICE."

"THE BODY YOU SUMMONED FOR ME KNEW THAT."

  
 _Rose._. I suspected she's had personal dealings with the Serpents. Giving me Serpent armor and a Serpent dagger, also. Who knows how she came to those?

  
"SHOW THEM HUNGER FOR BLOOD."

"SHOW THEM ANGER."

"SHOW THEM PASSION."

  
A force pushes me down, dragging my whole being to the ground. As if my bones wanted to tear themselves out.

  
"THERE IS NO TIME."

"YOU HAVE TO WAKE."

" **NOW**!"

  
A swift strike lands into my spine, suffocating me with pain.

  
I awake.  
  



	10. Red Mist Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being captured, Bright is forced to fight for her survival.

Darkness. Cold. Death.

Opening my eyes, I see only pitch black. I find myself on the ground, vulnerable and alone. A dark, terrifying room extends around me. A stone room. A cell, just like the one I was kept in. Only much smaller - only enough to extend my arms to the sides.

_This is real._

Managing to muster enough strength, I stand up. No weapons. No bag. No cloak. I'm only left with my armor. _Now I'm regretting not putting the dagger into my boot. Then again, this is supposedly Serpent armor. I'm sure they'd figure it out anyway._

Iron bars hold me from my freedom as the stone walls do the same. Peaking through the bars, I see a number of the exact same cells. Some empty, others filled with broken souls. Lying hopelessly on the ground without the strength to even cry. They are still alive, though. Their blinking and breathing assures me of that.

 _Mors said Serpents took us. Their only intention being our deaths._ I can't see Brash anywhere, he's not in here. If they hurt him... If they killed him... Despair and misery enter my mind. Mors said they only had orders for my death from Sorin's acolytes. _He.. I hope he's safe. He must be. There is no other option_. Thinking about his fate clouds my reasoning.

'Make them think you're red. Nobody needs reds.' 

Right. Bloodthirsty murderers. Seeking war and battle. Anger. Fury. I need to exhibit all of this, let myself go loose. And if they believe me, I'm to enter some contest. Disgusting animals, using their victims for entertainment. 'A black guild'. I clearly underestimated the passion for causing misery of black demonhearts.

  
Faint voices. They're slowly nearing. One female, one male voice.

"..journal. Bitch overwrote shit. The fuck is she, a white?" says the male voice.

"Hahaha no way! She was playing some giant soldier before we took her, stringing him along. She **must** be a black," laughs the female voice. A familiar voice. Plus, she mentioned me with.. Brash, I assume. Must be one of the two women.

"..Maybe. Shame, I wanted to see her break."

  
And before I know it, they're at my cell, staring at me with viciousness I've never seen before. The female speaks first, "Hi there, sweetheart. Know who we are? Know what's going to happen to you?" Her short, dark, straight hair rests above her shoulders, cut sharply and precisely. Dark-skinned, similar to Rose. So is the male.

_No fear. Show them fury or you die._

Remembering Brash's confidence, his ability to wake dread in the souls of every soldier, I hold it close to my heart. With one of his perverse sneers, now on my face instead, I exclaim, "You're some snake whore. You locked me in a cell because you're too big of a bitch to face me," then I laugh as thunderously as he would.

I can see her tongue moving inside her cheeks, as if thinking about what to do. "You think you could take me, little cat? I could kill you twice and eat your fucking heart while you only manage to blink."

"Yeah, fucking right. That's why the boys keep you safe on the other side of the bars? Need protection, do you?" and I scoff sharply.

She lets out an amused laugh, "You want a fight, sweetheart? You will have it, then," she chuckles, "Even your hair betrays you. Reds. All of you are the fucking same. And all of you will die the same. Watching that moment when you realise you have lost.." The woman glides her hands over her body in a very craving, passionate way. The man watches her sneakily. "It's the moment I live for. All that fire extinguished. It's living art!"

However scared I am, I can't let her see. Even more falsely determined than before, I bark out, "I won't lose to you or anyone else, whore," attempting to push the farce further. She doesn't respond anymore, only observes me ravenously. Possibly imagining all the ways I'd die. All the ways she'd watch me break. 

Without another word, they both walk off. I suppose they got the answer they were looking for.

I am left alone, once again.

_I hope that was enough._

  
Sitting down on the ground, I try to relax.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Who knows how much time I have until they take me.. wherever that may be. Mors described it as a contest of some kind, one reds participate in? Then again, I suppose it can be anyone who's brave enough, or stupid enough, to actually talk back. Like I did just now. Without being a red.

Breathe in, breathe out. 

No weapons. No bag. No Brash. I feel completely exposed and vulnerable. Left only with myself.

 _While mentioning my potential, Mors said something about 'ground and element control'. Does that mean I could move soil?_ _Control water?_ Shifting my eyes around the cell, there isn't much to try my powers on, really. The floor is firm stone, the bars keep everything locked away. But there are a few rocks. I could try moving those? There's nobody around me to see, nobody to witness.

 _It shouldn't be much different from the dagger, right? It's still an object. Just much smaller_. I couldn't do it with the dagger back in the lodge. It **did** wiggle, though. That's something, even though in the dreams the same was incredibly easy.

Holding my palm open, I prepare it for a rock. The smallest one.   
Imagining it enter my palm.  
Imagining its surface.  
Its light weight.  
How it lifts from the ground and makes its-  
It's in my palm.  
  
It's.  
In.  
My.  
Hand.

It moved. It moved. It moved. I'm holding the rock.

Completely frozen, I stare at it.

I can't believe it.

Then again, it really is a tiny, tiny rock. Barely the size of a blueberry. But I did it.

Since there is nobody around me who cares, I continue on. Practising with the other rocks. With some determination, I move the bigger ones into my palm, too. Still under the size of my fist, but I can do it! I really did it.

***

It's been hours. Taking a short nap cut the time I have to spend here. Some of the other prisoners wake me up. Their cries and screams come out of nowhere. Someone is being forced out of their cell.

"No! I beg you, don't do it!" the prisoner pleads. A man, possibly middle-aged.

"You better fucking walk. If you don't, you know what happens to your little girl!" another man threatens with pleasure in his voice.

The prisoner exhales in surrender. "..Don't hurt her, please. I'll do what you want."

No more words. They walk off, leaving the hallway quieter than it was before.

***

More waiting. Just like back in prison. Despair and uncertainty. Nobody to talk to, this time. The prisoners don't answer when I call out to them. Some move away further from their bars when I near mine. 

_I thought I'd never be in this situation again. But here we are._

Finally, more steps approach. Familiar steps. Light, but threatening at the same time. It's her again. The brunette. This time alone.

"Get up, red. Time to display some of that fierceness."

Unlocking the cell, she grabs me by my arm and pulls me upwards relentlessly. I try to run, but she's incredibly powerful. "Not going to happen," she responds to my attempt with a snicker. Leading me forcefully through the hallway, she shoves me into another room, locking the door behind me.

"You'll see your weapons soon enough. Give us a good fight, or we'll make your head explode with misery."

And she's gone. This must be something she does often. There was no emotion in her voice, no excitement, only boredom. Turning away from the door, I examine the room I'm currently in. A certain mechanism connects to the wooden platform I seem to be standing on. A bunch of chains and ropes. 

_Is this an elevation devi-_

The platform shakes, I drop down and scream out as a consequence. I'm being lifted up. Slowly rising, I see another room appear behind me. Getting up from the platform, I enter it warily. Another stone room, a few torches on the walls. Light shines through a door opposite of me, leading somewhere outside. Two tables stand on each side, both storing a variety of weapons. Swords, maces, daggers, and the like. I instantly pick a dagger and a shortsword up.

Now armed, I feel much safer, even if still held captive. _She told me to give them a good fight? So.. I have to fight someone. And it won't be Brash, for the first time. Garrosh was nothing. I hope I learned enough to survive._ With a breath of confidence, I open the door and exit the room.

  
A stadium. An arena. I'm right at the center while tens of people watch me with interest like I'm an animal. Their prey. Their entertainment. Clutching my weapons tighter, I don't let any fear show on my face. I can't let them know I'm not a red or not interesting enough to be allowed to compete.

A small balcony pours out of the elevated sitting area. A few menacing looking people stare me down from it. Someone joins them - it's the woman from earlier. And she's also the first one to speak.

"WELCOME, CONTESTANT. YOU WILL FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE. AND IF NOT..." she bids another woman next to her. A witch by the looks of her clothing. She raises her hand in my direction and.. 

"Agh!" I scream out in pain, hands grasping my head. It kills, as if she were tearing my brain to pieces, pulling it through my ears. The agony subsides as the witch lowers her hand.

"NOW THAT YOU UNDERSTAND, LET'S BRING OUR FIRST CHALLENGER!"

Slow clapping surrounds the arena. All the Serpents watching seem unamused so far. The door that stands opposite of mine opens. A man is pushed outside forcefully. He falls down to the ground. I'm almost certain that's the man they dragged out of his cell.

"CHALLENGER - IF YOU DO NOT FIGHT FOR OUR AMUSEMENT, YOUR DAUGHTER WILL SUFFER. SLOWLY. PAINFULLY. HER SCREAMS WILL SOUND OUR HALLS FOR WEEKS," the woman announces dispassionately. _These people are insane! Mad!_ The man in front of me grips the sword he's been given. His face intensifies, shifting from desparation to determination. He will do what he needs to.

  
"NOW, BEGIN THE MATCH!"  
  


The man doesn't wait. He charges right towards me, fear and despair set deep into his eyes. Readying my guard, I deflect his attack. Knowing I can use all of my power without an issue since they all know I'm a demonheart, I don't struggle at all. His swings are weak. I can't even feel the hits.

The man is giving his all. The entirety of his being. He cannot best me. He cannot hope to. But I don't want to kill him. I can't. His suffering isn't deserved. None of this is. That doesn't mean **he** isn't trying to end my life.

There is no choice. He won't relent.

Attack. Attack. Attack. None of them wound me.

Swinging again, he starts sobbing, his grip on the sword loosens with every hit. Between the weakening strikes, he lets out, "Please.. kill me. They need.. entertainment. If I die.. they will leave her alive."

Strike. Strike. Miss.

Holding him in a guard, I whisper, "You want me to kill you? I can't do that!" And with an empty look, he throws himself off of my guard and, grabbing my right hand, he stabs himself in the throat. Slowly bleeding from it. Gasping for air.

Life leaves his eyes as his body slowly falls, dragging me down with him. Dagger still in his throat.

Blood surrounds his lifeless body.

_He.. made me.. kill him. I killed him._

Breathing heavily, I look at his face.

Searching for signs of life. 

Nothing.

He's gone.  
  


"WELL, THAT WAS PAINFULLY BORING! I EXPECTED MORE FROM THE VICIOUS RED I HAD MET EARLIER!" the woman laughs as I crouch next to the dead man's body. The crowd roars as well, probably at my reaction rather than the showing.

"THIS WAS ONLY THE APPETISER. NOW, THE MAIN COURSE. WE RECIEVED A SPECIAL REQUEST FROM OUR EMPLOYER FOR YOUR NEXT MATCH. I'M SURE YOU WILL FIND IT.. APPROPRIATELY UPSETTING!" she grimaces at me, ferociously and savagely. Someone from the crowd yells, "BREAK HER!" and others applaud.

_These aren't people. These are psychotic beasts._

  
"BRING THE NEXT CHALLENGER!"  
  


The door opens. Another person is pushed through. A man carrying a greatsword.

My heart stops.

_No._

We look at each other. Fearful stares. We know what the audience desires. My lungs fill with fright.  
  


"NOW, THESE TWO SHOULD MAKE FOR GREAT ENTERTAINMENT! THE WAYWARD, STAR-CROSSED LOVERS! THEY WILL GUT EACH OTHER FOR SURVIVAL!" The audience sounds an audible, long 'Ooh', remaining silent afterwards. Patiently awaiting the outcome.

Looking at my opponent, I don't comply. Instead, I sheath my weapons and walk towards him. The closer I get, the more blood I see. His scalp.. they must have hurt him continuously. He holds his weapon low, carelessly letting the blade graze the ground as he approaches. His expression twists into one of fear and worry.

Extending one arm, almost as if inviting me into an embrace, I begin running towards him. Alas, I collide with something. A barrier. An invisible one. I can't come any closer. He stops at the barrier as well. A few feet away. So close, yet so far.  
  


"MY, MY! THIS MATCH WILL BE EVEN MORE INTERESTING THAT I HAD ORIGINALLY THOUGHT! HOW WILL IT FEEL TO KILL YOUR LOVED ONE, I WONDER?" Her voice sounds genuinely amused, for the first time.

"Brash, I'm scared," I share my distress.

He frowns, "We'll figure something out, sweetie. Everything will-"

  
Suddenly, he sinks to the ground, dropping into a crouch. Screaming out in pain, he clutches his head in hands. I fall down to my knees, clawing at the barrier, calling out to him. Attempting to reach and help him. Nothing happens. It doesn't break.

"HOW IS IT, RED? HOW DOES IT FEEL? NOT ABLE TO DO ANYTHING TO STOP IT?" And for the first time, the entire area laughs in genuine excitement. Mine and his suffering entices them. Satisfies them. "LET'S SEE ABOUT GETTING THIS FIGHT STARTED, THEN!"  
  


Instantly, Brash stops clutching his head. He reaches for the sword and takes a stance, unlike the one he took against me earlier. A merciless, sadistic stance.

I whisper, "..Brash?"

His eyes stare at me blankly. There is no fire in them. Nothing. Something happened to him. The witch must be doing this. I look over his shoulder and right at her. She's keeping one hand up, aimed at Brash. Channeling some sort of control spell. Her eyes are fully focused on his back.

"HE CAN'T HEAR YOU, DARLING. HE WILL KILL YOU WITHOUT KNOWING! AND THERE IS NO OTHER CHOICE FOR YOU THAN TO FIGHT." A loud cheer sparks inside the arena.

Widening my eyes, I look at Brash in terror. He returns a blank, empty look devoid of all emotion. Even anger, it's all gone. He's an empty shell now. With a readied stance, he prepares to attack. Pulling my weapons out and taking guard, I step back from the barrier.

_This isn't him. It's not Brash._

  
"BEGIN THE MATCH!" 

  
Reckless attack. He swings at me with such incredible speed and power, I'm instantly thrown to the ground as I attempt to deflect. _GODS! What was that!_ Rolling away from him, I try to take guard again. 

Another monsterous swing. I try to dodge it instead. While bending backwards, Brash sweeps my legs and I fall down. Piercing at my body, he stabs me in the leg. I cry out in pain, but roll sideways before his next strike lands.

_Was he holding back on me this whole time? Even earlier? I cannot hope to beat him._

Limping away, I understand that trying to match him in combat is pointless. Sheathing my weapons, I realise my only hope lies in running around the arena, avoiding his strikes completely. Even with a temporarily hurt leg, I am faster than him. Not by much, but faster.

" **C** o **M** e **H** e **R** e, w **H** o **R** e," comes out of Brash's mouth. A vile, nearly demonic voice. Not like his, whatsoever.

Chasing me down, he's closing the distance.

_  
It's useless. I can't do it on my own. I need-_

  
Mors. 

  
'When left with no choice, repeat these words and I will save you.'

Mors said she would save me. I'm not sure how, but.. 

'Your life will be forfeit until resurrection.'

It will also cost me my life.

'Choose your timing wisely.'

Brash is right behind me, swinging at my back.  
  


_I have to trust her. Brash will kill me without knowing. And I can't stop him. But.. I also have to get close to him. Make him touch the amulet. She said I need to grasp it to save myself. If I mean to save Brash, he has to be touching it, also. At least, I think. She didn't mention anything about saving him. It's my only option, anyway. I am not leaving him here._

Holding the amulet in my hand, I begin repeating what she told me to remember.

"Vita ad vita."

Brash swings at my back and slices it. Pain throws my entire body around, now making me face him.

"Dolor ad dolor."

A strong, piercing stab enters my stomach. Pushing the blade deeper, Brash comes closer than I could get moments ago.

"VERY ENTERTAINING! THANK YOU, RED. TRULY, YOUR POWER REMAINS UNMATCHABLE," the woman screams somewhere behind me, most likely mocking me.

  
Brash seems to be coming to. The witch must have stopped channeling the spell. Seeing what he's done, he panics. Trying to pull away from me, I counteract by holding his arm close with my free hand. He must stay near. He must.. hold the amulet.

I feel myself fading from the near-fatal wounds.

"..Bright.. What the fuck have I done?!"

Taking one of his shaking hands, I place it on the backside of my amulet. Brash's expressions grow tenser and more desperate. Smiling at him, I close my eyes.

"..Mortem ad.. mortem."   
  


And I fade away. Pass on. The second the last word exits my mouth, everything dims and turns dark.

I can't tell what exactly happened afterwards, but spirit and life left my body. Mors made it clear that saving my life would kill me. The only hope I have is that my life also paid for Brash's. I know it did. It must have.

There is no other option for me.


	11. Encore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A distorted 'dream' during Bright's second resurrection.

A sword lies inside my stomach, piercing me through and through. Its handle held by a knight covered in blood.

  
"YOU HAVE DIED, DEMONHEART."

"THERE WAS NO OTHER OPTION."

"YOUR WARRIOR SHALL BE SPARED."

"THIS IS THE ONLY TIME I WILL GRANT YOU SUCH FAVOUR."

"HE DOES NOT DESERVE YOUR PITY, YOUR SACRIFICE."

  
I cough up blood, it flows down to the ground. A crimson waterfall, drowning our feet.

  
"HAVING TEMPORARILY GIVEN UP YOUR LIFE, I SAVED YOU BY USING IT."

"MOVED YOU CLOSER TO YOUR DOOM."

"USE YOUR INFERNAL ALLY."

"HE WILL BE YOUR ONLY HOPE."

"I MAY NOT HELP YOU WITH THE WITCH."

"SAVING YOUR LIVES EXHAUSTED ME NEARLY FATALLY."

"I CANNOT DO SUCH A THING AGAIN."

  
The sword exits my body and falls to the ground. So do I. So does the knight.

  
"THE BREAKING POINT NEARS."

"LEARN FROM US."

"GAIN PERSPECTIVE AND BE JUST."

"ONLY THEN WILL YOUR HEART REMAIN TRUE."

  
A hand reaches mine. Holds it carefully. I can feel my hair being moved around.

  
"WE WERE WRONG ABOUT YOUR WARRIOR IN SOME WAYS."

"NOT ALL."

"IF YOU WISH, TELL HIM ABOUT US."

"HE WILL ASK."

"HIS KNOWING BRINGS NO HARM."

  
Someone is saying my name near me. Looking around, I can't see anyone.

  
"YOU SHOULD NOT TRUST HIM THE WAY YOU DO."

"BUT WE KNOW THAT IS IMPOSSIBLE."

"PERSONALLY, I DO NOT CARE"

"DO NOT LET YOUR FEELINGS CLOUD YOUR JUDGEMENT."

"IT WILL COST YOU."

"BE READY TO DO WHAT YOU MUST DO."

  
There is no wound in my stomach anymore. The other ones also healed. Feeling returns to my body.

  
"NOW, WAKE."

"YOUR FUTURE AWAITS."

  
Knowing I am safe,

I awake.  
  



	12. One to Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heart to heart between Bright and Brash about what occurred in the arena. The mission's conclusion seems to near quickly.

Rapid and sharp inhalation. Eyes abruptly spring open. Body spasms involuntarily. Waking up in the middle of an incinerated circular area, slowly fading into natural colours, I find myself in a forest.

_I'm alive. Somewhere. Not the arena._

A forest. Deep, familiar forest. Just like the one around the lodge, but no buildings can be spotted from where I lie. Only trees. Bushes. Dead soil and plants all around me. A cloak covers my body. A pearl white cloak. It's stained red by my wounds. Gripping it in hands, I uncover myself. The wounds have healed. But.. a scar remains on my stomach. Exactly at the spot the sword entered. Dry blood sits on my skin as a reminder. Perhaps fatal wounds leave permanent scarring? The one I've got on my neck isn't as visible as it was initially, but still present.

_Did Mors also take my possessions? I didn't have this cloak on before._

Pressing my palms against the ground, I lift my body, jumping up in one accelerated motion. Somehow, I feel more alive than ever before. Or perhaps I am only thrilled to see myself escape Serpents' captivity. Those people are savage animals.

The cloak. Lying on the ground. Suddenly, I become aware of the other objects in my area. My bag. My weapons, too. Neither of which were on my person before death. It seems Mors was thoughtful enough to save my belongings. But, it's not everything. Something is missing. Or, rather...

_..Where's Brash?_

Mors said she saved him as a favour for me. Could she have moved us to separate locations? Searching the forest with my alerted gaze, his figure is nowhere to be seen. Or voice, or his own belongings. No trace of my knight.

  
Yelling aimlessly, I look for him. "Brash? Brash, can you hear me?"

No answer.

Relentlessly, I continue, "Brash! Sir! Are you here anywhere?" turning in all directions.

A rustle. Leafy rustle. "Don't call me that," comes from somewhere above me. Lifting my eyes towards the voice, I notice boots hanging from a tree branch. Their owner sits on it, as well. Sturdy enough to support his entire body, this branch is a true fighter.

"Which one do you dislike?" I ask innocently.

"I better not hear my godsdamned name come out of your mouth," he growls, jumping down the branch, sounding menace. "Not after whatever the fuck you did. Which I better hear explained. Cunt-licking witch." A look of twisted anger falls on me, shuts me down from the inside.

Mors warned me that Brash will ask and that it's alright to answer truthfully. I'm not quite certain of that anymore. He thinks I'm a witch. This idea might only get increasingly severe with more revealed information. But, do I really have the option to lie? Brash trained demonhearts in the past, I'm sure he knows about some things. Perhaps he will believe me and understand? Or, at least the former. Either way, I could start by detailing the events that allowed our escape? 

"It's sort of a long sto-"

Not even letting me finish the sentence, he interrupts me by screaming, "Then shorten it, or I'll shorten you by a head!" Some of the fire his eyes were missing before has returned. A wrathful stare. With my weapons lying on the ground further away from me, I've got no means of defense. Risking lies doesn't seem worth it.

_Fucking hells. He's too aggravated._

Waving his gripped sword in hands, he continues amassing more assumptions. "Did you cast some shit on me in the camp? That would sure explain a lot, you witch whore. I should have fucking known-"

Frustrated at the insinuation, I attempt stopping his train of thought, "Stop with the conspiracy theories, you dense bastard! You can't possibly believe any of what you're saying. Just let me explain, please." Pleading with his inflamed expression, I shoot him an expectant look. Only antipathy returns.

Twisting the handle of the sword in his hand, he takes a few steps towards me but stops. Pointing the blade right at me, he grits his teeth. "Try sassing me one more fucking time. **Try it** ," he growls, threatening me.

Swallowing the lump of tension and anxiety that has built up in my throat, I try to relax and sit down on the ground. "Just listen to me, I'll tell you everything. You should.. sit down. This might take a while and I can guarantee you'll have questions. I myself still do, honestly."

Eyeing me with ambivalence and suspicion, he finally sits down, somewhat far from me. Still within earshot, though. Resting the sword in his lap, he never relaxes his grip on it. Always ready to strike me down if my explanation isn't to his liking. Squinting at it, I realise just how greatly his trust in me suffered during our 'escape'.

  
Breathing in, I prepare to describe exactly what happened in the past two weeks. All the people, entities and demons I've met. Still, I don't mention Raze. Brash displayed his intense aversion for demonspawn when I mentioned them unintentionally.

First, I begin telling him about the circumstances of my death, Orchid's frequent 'Vaytos' dinners and what Lord Sorin told me during our very first meeting. His continuous contacting me through dreams. What he told me about the history of Inferno, overlords, Hells and the Inquisitors. Telling him about the fate of the Inquisitors and my pale nature seems to grasp Brash's full attention. His expression slowly melts from antipathy to apathy to a thoughtful look. 

_Small improvements?_

Next, I tell him about my defiance to Sorin, his attempts at my life and the failed banishment. How Mors took interest in me because of all that. And, lastly, I recount all that she has done within only a few days. Advising me to remove information from the journal. Telling me of her true origins and Sorin's monstrosity. Teaching me about pale's potentials, showing which one is apparently my dominant one. Helping me practise. And, of course, saving both me and Brash from certain death, all using my temporarily surrendered life force.

  
Taking a second of rest from all the talking, I conclude, "..So, that's everything. Not a witch. No spells, charms or the like. Merely some pale 'wench'," mildly laughing under my breath.

Brash has made no move for quite a while now. His expression tells me nothing, the same as the rest of his body. Either he's throwing me a terrified, afraid stare, or a stunned, shocked glare. Knowing him and what he's like, I sincerely doubt it's the first option.

"So.." I clear my throat in discomfort, "Any.. questions?"

No answer. As if he's still processing all the information I just poured onto him. The quantity of it might have been slightly excessive.

"Anything at all? Thoughts? Doubts? Clarification requests?"

Nothing. I suppose I should try a different approach.

"..Do you still like me, knowing all of this? You seem somewhat... not alright."

And still no answer. His ambiguous glare is worrying.

"Brash?"

"You're such an idiot." The first thing he says ends up being slightly insulting. Who cares, really. I'm glad he finally said something!

"What the hells!" I yell out in frustration, but can't hide how glad I am to finally hear a response.

Getting up from the ground and sheathing his sword, he makes his way towards me. Once near enough, he extends his arm, holding his open hand to pull me up. It's been a while since we were in a similar situation. I can never refuse such an offer.

Readily accepting, he takes my hand into his. Squeezing it, he pulls me into an embrace. An actual one. A close, tight hug filled with safety and reassurance.

"Of course I still like you. You fucking died to get us both out. What in the name of fuck."

"..Good," I respond, chuckling silently.

A short silence, filled with warmth and cosiness. His jaw touches the top of my head as he pats me with it.

"We should talk about some of the things you mentioned, kitten."

I nod, pressing my head to his chest absentmindedly.

  
"..You're really a pale, then?"

Another, slightly more enthusiatic nod. _Thank Gods he believes me._ "That's right. Sorin said Orchid recieved his flesh to feed it to me. Turn me into his acolyte."

I feel warmth in my hair as he exhales deeply. "Demonic shithead. I'd be less surprised if you told me you were some old crone in the body of a young girl. I've never met a pale. Ever. And I've been training demonhearts for most of my service to Mace."

Raze mentioned that pales are hunted down for their power. The book told of how pale Hell suffered the most from demonheart hunting - one demonheart eating another one's heart. Absorbing their powers. Perhaps Brash knows more to finally connect everything for me? 

"Why is that? I was told we're killed for our power, but.. what difference does our nature make?"

"You pretended to be red to enter that fucked contest, right? The called you 'red', and I'll take a wild guess it's not because of your pretty hair. If they had known you were pale, you'd die immediately."

One of his hands buries itself into my hair, as if to offer comfort.

"Their leader would recieve your heart. Together with the 'potential' you talked about. Other heart types don't carry over abilities, only enhance the ones you already have. Pale hearts grant that additional bullshit. A few reds I trained ate a pale heart, each. Some became more powerful, the rest never knew how to control their shit."

I feel his head shaking in disagreement, most likely involuntarily. 

"I thought you were just some weak red, since anger gets you all riled up. But I was wrong. You're even more per-" He abruptly stops mid-word, even interrupting patting my head with his hand, placing it on my back instead, clutched in a fist. Still not letting me escape from the embrace.

"..Anyway. You were sassing a fucking demon overlord before me, huh?" A satisfied snicker alleviates any of my remaining worry.

"Maybe. A little."

A tame laugh. "Always an annoying brat, aren't you? And this Mors cunt, the fuck is she doing with you? What does she want?"

Good question. If only I had an answer for that one. "She said I'll know when it happens, but that it's still in the distant future. Who knows how distant, though. I believe she honestly wants to help. Her hate towards Sorin seems nearly immeasurable. And she **did** save us both."

  
A pause. Something catches Brash's attention.

  
His hand returns to my hair, examining a single, specific tress. "..Your hair. Some of it turned gray," Brash announces, perturbed by the revelation.

Confused by what he's saying, I take the tress he's holding into my own hand. It's gray, nearly white. Of course, it's only a small amount, but it stems right from above my forehead, making it hard to hide. Lifting my gaze to examine Brash's expression, I ask, "Does it look really bad?"

"No. That's fucking impossible to do," he reassures me with a somewhat affectionate grin. Perhaps 'approving' is a better description. Or 'amused'. It doesn't take very long for him to interrupt it. A forced, blank look now meets me, instead.

His mood definitely drops, but mine can't. We're locked in a close hug right after our lives hung on a thin thread. Now we're alone. Hopefully, safe. I should be worried, considering we've lost half of our group's force. But Brash is unbelievably powerful. I doubt he even needs me, to be honest. From what Jarlan described in the witch killing story, the two of them have an abundance of experience. 

With a deep voice, he adds, "..I'm sorry about what happened. I couldn't fucking stop my hands from-"

I don't let him finish. It's obvious what he's apologising for. "Don't. The witch was controlling you completely. None of it is your fault. I just wish I knew how strong you really are! You absolutely annihilated me in under a minute," I chuckle and continue, "Didn't know you still were being nice to me during the training earlier."

Moving his gaze to the side, he growls, "I said I don't like hurting you. Watching my sword go right through your body, powerless to stop any of it..." Not holding me in the embrace anymore, I don't move away anyway. His hands are busy shaking in fists, as if attempting to break his fingers. "Looks like the ring is fucking useless, huh? Didn't do shit for you."

Anguishing guilt sears his voice and tone. With arms crawling as far as I can push them, I embrace him adoringly. "That's fine. It's from you, that's all that matters. I'm just glad I was finally able to save your butt in return for you saving mine."

His body lightly shakes in a snicker, "When did I do that?"

"You trained me patiently. You took care of me through the fever. You protected me from the two soldiers. You stopped me from obsessing over what happened in the cave. And, of course, you made me that.." I clear my throat, "..interesting soup! You deserve saving for everything you've done for me."

Nothing moves. Brash even stops breathing. After a moment, he pushes me away, as if something I just said upset him. Examining his expression, searching for an answer, I only find distress. Anger. A deep-seated level of veiled misery. His very own purgatory. Seeing my confused, worried look, he throws me a venomous sneer. 

"Well, thanks for that, cat. But you've got no fucking idea what you're saying," and with a grin, he steps away from me, heading towards the cloak I left on the ground. Picking it up, he examines the blood. There isn't too much of it, but the cloak is wholly white. Red stands out quite a lot. Having made up his mind, he drops the cloak back on the ground, leaving it behind as he walks in a different direction. Picking up all of my belongings, I go right after him, eventually walking beside him.

"Your Death girl moved us closer to where we were heading. The witch demands attention, and there is no other choice than to go and deal with her," he annunciates in a heavy, resolute tone.

"I'll go where you lead me," I answer determinedly.

His lips purse relentlessly. His frown becomes permanent. "Stay close."

Even though he isn't looking in my direction, I nod anyway. "Always."

And we continue on in silence. Brash seems deep in thought. By now I should know better than to disturb him, so I restrain myself and don't say a word. I suppose now is as good a time as any to do what Mors recommended. What she said remains my only hope.

  
_Hey, Raze?_

No answer. It's been days since he talked to me last. My affection for Brash infuriates him for some reason. Nobody ever likes him, though.

_I know you can hear me. Please, answer?_

Nothing. But.. the amulet is warm to touch. Perhaps he's just sulking. Either way, I'll talk whether he answers or not.

_Alright, then. At least listen. I'm sorry about the way our last conversation ended. It's clear you're not fond of Brash, but that shouldn't mean we can't talk whatsoever, right? You said I'm supposed to be your mentor. Teach you about the world and protect you. So.. let's try working on that?_

And nothing. He's still here, the amulet has not grown cooler, only warmer.

_Just think about it. I know I didn't trust you in the beginning, but I feel we-_

_**"** Alright, darling. Stop with the distraught whimpering. I understand, you are completely lost without me. It's almost sad how desperate you seem to be without my guidance."_

_Hey, now!_

A laugh rings in my head.

_..Well, I'm glad you're not ignoring me anymore._

_**"** Technically, I wasn't. Rather I spent time perfecting my knowledge. And I made my way back to Orchid's house, taking any of your remaining affects. After all, you will be living with me once I save you."_

What. 

_What is that supposed to mean?_

As if I'd ever allow that. But Mors told me he is vital to my survival. Aggravating him might stop that from happening. I seem to have come to trust Mors nearly fully. She's never done anything to make me doubt the good of her intentions. But every single person I've ever trusted had an agenda. Even Orchid. At first I thought I was turned for my own good. But with the appearance of Raze and him telling me what she wrote in the letters, it's obvious I was to stay as his eternal 'friend' and mentor. I have to be wary of things Mors asks of me, when that time comes.

_**"** Oh, don't worry about that right now. When it happens, you'll see that your options are limited. I'm certain Mors told you of that, otherwise you wouldn't have spoken to me."_

My heart sinks.

_..How-_

_**"** That little trick she did, using your spirit to save you together with the power of the amulet? I could feel your death through it. And, knowing of your pale nature, additionally reading one book after another, it became clear. From an acolyte of Sorin to an acolyte of Mors. Somewhat of a downgrade, but I suppose it's still admirable for a puny human!_" A mocking chuckle.

He knows everything. Everything.

_Raze, I didn't mean to use you! You've been on my mind for a while. I only thought you needed some time alone! Usually, you were the one to start our conversations. I'm truly sorry if I offended you._

I might be overdoing it. It's difficult to care for someone I **know** was responsible for the death of Orchid. Even if it wasn't his intention. She made me promise I would take care of him, though. Whatever my feelings are, that promise remains more important.

At first silent, most likely thinking about every single word I said, he finally speaks, _**"** ..Now, now. Calm down. It's alright, I was merely teasing. Who could have known leaving you without my glorious presence would have such devastating repercussions?"_ And he laughs amusedly.

I suppose I convinced him. Thank Gods.

_You're.. right._

_**"** Of course I am, my sweet. Focus on your journey, now. It requires your full attention. Even though it will change nothing."_

Again, another insinuation convincing me of my impending doom. _..Am I going to die fighting the witch?_

A chuckle. _**"** Not with my help, you won't."_

_..Thank you._

_**"** Oh, you need not thank. I **know** you will repay me in full."_

And with a last laugh, the amulet grows cooler. Deafening silence.

  
Back on the path, travelling with Brash. Nothing happened during my semi-conscious discussion with Raze. Good.

Either way, the witch waits. She has to be dealt with. There is no other choice.

I need to be ready for anything.


	13. Right Into Your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Entering the ruins, Brash cannot control himself around Bright anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Explicit Sex! (if you want to skip the explicit things, I separated it by a line!)

We come to a full stop. A stone, narrow entrance into an underground ruin emerges, all from behind densely concentrated bushes. Decorated with a few spiked skulls and bare bones, this hardly seems like a place people enter for amusement purposes. The deeper I look inside the descending hallway, the less I can discern. Two lit torches hang from the walls right at the entry, the others I can see are doused, awaiting reignition.

Unsheathing the monsterous greatsword, Brash readies his weapon. I follow up with mine, preparing for whatever awaits us. 

Fearfully, I inquire, "So, the witch is in there?"

The entire journey to here was spent in silence. Something was on his mind. I suppose he's more worried about how to deal with the witch than me, since I only expect having to follow his lead. Taking a while to respond, he finally lets out, "We only need to pass through here." A cold, assertive voice. One I was not expecting. A suppressed suspense envelops his being.

_Only pass through? Maybe this is some sort of a tunnel, then._

Bringing his free palm right to his forehead, it nearly seems like he's trying to push it through his skull. Forcing it back into its initial position, he enters the corridor firmly, taking one of the lit torches with him. Not lingering outside for longer than necessary, I cautiously step into the hallway, right behind Brash.

It's much cooler in here than I could have guessed. As we make our way down the seemingly infinite staircase, Brash makes sure to light all the torches we pass. Seeing the hallway illuminate bit by bit offers small comfort. Even then, I never relax my grip on the weapons. Neither does Brash. His whole posture looks stiff and unyielding, prepared to strike any foe that stands in his way.

  
Finally, we reach the end of the staircase. Another long hallway meets us, this time no descending is necessary, it's purely an even-leveled corridor. Advancing farther, more lonesome, dead torches beg for attention. As we reach the first extension of the hallway, a small room greets us, with what looks like a few sarcophagi, rising from the ground. Brash enters to investigate. I follow.

In a whisper, I ask, "Is this a tomb?"

Lighting all of the available torches, he responds harshly, "Shut your mouth."

 _..What the hells._ His expressions intensify as he examines the room aimlessly, looking from one corner to the other. Since each wall carries two, now lit, torches, his search should soon prove bountiful. Or, at least, I hope so. Knowing nothing of what he's looking for, I walk beside the walls and sarcophagi. Placing my bag on the ground carefully, I examine the symbols with my sight as well as touch.

Some of these walls carry not only signs of death, but also of eternal suffering. Punishment. Connecting things together, I conclude that whoever was buried here might have been still alive. A shiver runs down my spine.

  
"..Fuck it," comes from behind me. Sounds of heavy collision with the stone ground prompt me to turn around and investigate. The torch Brash held now lies on the ground, still aglow. The sword shares its fate. Surprisingly, so does his sturdy chest armor. For the first time ever, I see him not wearing it. His dark blue tunic remains as the only protection for his upper body.  
  


* * *

  
Before any questions can be raised, he nears me with incredible alacrity, speed and.. an alluring sneer. Taking a few steps backwards, I'm uncertain of what he means to do once he reaches me. That question is answered quite quickly. Pressing my body roughly against the wall behind me, my head crashes into it, somewhat painfully. He waits for no cue. Wrapping his nearly violent grasp around my wrists, pushing them onto the wall, the grip on my weapons loosens completely. The ringing noise of blades grazing the stone floor announces my willful surrender.

Piercing me with his cruel, perverted glare, he eyes my helpless body, relishing the control he has over my fate. Leaning in closer, pressing his mouth against my exposed ear, he whispers in a growl, "I'll make you mine. Your entire fucking body. Whether you like it or not, you belong to me." I shudder with fearful excitement, hearing his violently spoken words. Nearly rolling to the back of my head, I manage to still my eyes half-lidded. Yanking my wrists farther up the wall, dragging them against the coarse stone, mild pain caused by the friction awakens me from the temporary trance I seem to have been in.

 _..How.. did I get myself into this situation?_ Pinned to the wall by Brash, just like after the hunt. But it doesn't look like he's going to stop himself this time. No more suppression.

 _What the hells do I do..? He won't let me move away, but do I even want to? The way his hands held me in the forest. Explored my body mercilessly. Sent me into a sensational state of thoughtless frenzy. I've never experienced anything like it before_.

Keeping his head in the same position, his lips meet the ear they have been intimidating. A wet warmth engulfs it wholly as his tongue marks the ear enthusiastically. A soft moan escapes from my lips, betraying the last semblance of self-restraint I had clung to. Now I'm all his, totally ensnared by all the ardent desire. He's fully aware of it, acknowledging it with a soft bite to my earlobe. 

Leaning his head back, he reveals an expression of barely-contained longing and just-controlled ruthlessness. Another moan escapes me, one of shock and pleasure combined. "You're my little whore, aren't you?" he snarls at me with a malicious grimace. With an agape mouth inviting him in, I nod unknowingly, quickly biting my lip down in an attempt to regain composure. My breathing grows heavier and wilder with each moment.

  
Moving my wrists together, he releases one hand while the other holds both of the wrists against the wall. Not allowing me any reprieve. Grasping my chin viciously, he moves his thumb over my closed lips. "Open," he growls in a sneer, glaring at my mouth. I comply readily, unsealing my lips at his command. As his fingers release the hold over my chin, three of them make their way into my mouth instead. Pressing them against my tongue. 

"Suck them," he orders. I obey, aiming to please. Too many feelings are overwhelming my entire being. My eyes shut in response, lips seizing his fingers as I rock my head back and forth. "Good girl," he growls again, satisfied by my obedience. My arms are suddenly let go from his grasp. I suppose he has a better use for his hand. Quickly enough, that use becomes apparent. 

While I suck on the fingers of one, the other hand begins unbuckling the two undamaged belts of my chest armor. He's had some practise before, which is clear in just a moment. The belts are undone already. I gasp, half in fear and half in aroused anticipation. My previous armor now resembles an open vest, with nothing underneath. A completely exposed torso awaits his touch.

Not waiting any longer, his free hand moves the vest aside. Letting it fall down my shoulders, arms and onto the floor, my bare, naked chest is revealed. Groaning at the sight in arousal, he forces the three fingers deeper into my mouth, forcing a yelp out of me. Not knowing what to do with my arms, I instinctively lock them around his lower back, as if to pull him in closer. 

A torturous snicker. "You want me that much, huh? Well you're going to have to wait. Only good, obedient girls get my cock." 

_..Gods!_ My brain completely melts hearing his words, so does my expression. I must be giving him an incredibly lewd look. At least that's what it feels like. An amused, tame laugh comes out of him as a reaction. Before I regain a hint of focus, I notice his free hand has found another target. Roughly grasping one of my breasts, massaging and kneading it, he lets out another passionate groan. As his self-control begins fading, I feel the intensity of his movements increase. 

His teeth fiercely bite my neck in multiple spots, definitely leaving evidence of his affection, later alleviated by continuous kisses. All the while still forcing his fingers deeper into my throat, pushing them to hear me gag. Placing one of his legs between mine, he uses his height advantage to rub my crotch with his massive thigh. I honestly expect myself to fall unconscious from all these foreign sensations. He's working my body so masterfully and dexterously. All this pleasure drives my mind mad. 

  
"Let's see just how wet you are for me, kitten," he says softly, pulling his fingers out of my mouth, revealing the previously concealed heavy, erratic breathing of mine. _Does he mean to-_ Yes, he does. Sliding his entire hand down the front of my leggings, I feel his fingers play around with my opening. With a wide-eyed look, I tense my expression. 

_Nobody has ever.. touched me like that._ Sternly examining my face at first, he returns to the familiar sleazy sneer. "You're fucking soaking wet. Did you come already?" he asks in a mocking chuckle. Blushing at the insinuation, I shake my head in a resounding 'no', even though I honestly wouldn't know.

Before I can take another breath, Brash forcefully seals my lips with his as he slides two of his fingers inside me, eliciting a cry contained by our deep kiss. To prevent me from resisting, he pushes me against the wall even more roughly, now also holding my legs apart with his own. I shift my arms from his lower back to around his neck, offering relief as I claw at his covered back in response. Thrusting his fingers in, again and again, I can't bring myself to kiss back anymore, only moan into his mouth. _Fucking hells. This is better than I could have imagined._

Pulling his head back slightly, he gloats over my undying desire with a satisfied grin. Still playing with my breasts and not relenting with his movements inside me, he growls, "Tell me what you want." A cold, expectant look meets mine. He's waiting for me to respond, he even stops his fingers temporarily. _Gods, he wants me to say it._ Shutting my eyes, I quickly whisper out, "I want.. you."

Opening them again, I see Brash unamused and irritated. "Not good enough. You can do better than that," his hoarse, guttural voice growls.

Breathing rapidly, I let out a louder, "I want you.. inside me." I can't help but cringe, hearing the words exit my mouth.

Cocking his head to the side, he raises his eyebrows, still unamused. "Last chance, or you get fucking nothing," he barks out viciously.

Biting my lip, I breathe in, longingly look into his eyes and muster all the power in me to finally say, "..I want you to fuck me. Will you.. please fuck me, Brash?"

  
That does it. 

  
A ravenous sneer breaks his empty look as he licks his teeth. Hearing my plea, he frees both his hands and grasps my thighs from underneath, lifting me up from the ground. As if in an instinct, I immediately wrap myself around his waist, feeling just how much he wants me. We don't go very far. Throwing me onto one of the sarcophagi, my back painfully slams into it and I cry out as a consequence. Grabbing my thighs once more, he pulls me towards himself, all the way until my butt collides with his swelling groin.

"Such a good girl. You deserve a good fucking," he growls hungrily as he unbuckles the belt holding my leggings in place. Within seconds, he's done with it, already sliding the pants up my lifted legs, completely exposing every bit of me. The only thing he hasn't removed are my boots, but he doesn't seem to mind that. As the leggings fall to the ground, his hands force my legs far apart, teasing my nether regions. I bite back a sequence of aroused moans, but my arched back betrays my efforts.

The teasing stops. Looking over at Brash, I see him taking his tunic off, pulling it over his head. Once his chest becomes exposed, I see just how many more scars he owns. Deep scars. One in particular grasps my attention - a monsterous scar running across his chest, around the area of his heart. That kind of a wound must have taken months to close. 

Noticing my expression, he questions me abruptly, "What, my scars turn you off?" An aggravated scoff. 

Staggering at first and snickering at the question, I quickly respond, "Of course not. I love your scars. They're attractive, actually." 

Glaring at me furiously for a moment, he begins undoing his pants, "You're getting fucked hard for lying like that." 

Before there is any time for a protest, something eagerly pushes against my privates. Not entering me, but rather teasing, threatening with its presence. Tensing my stomach in anticipation, I begin breathing erratically again. _This is going to hurt, isn't it? Maybe I should tell him I've never-_

  
Too late.

  
Gripping my bare thighs in an immovable clasp, his hips rock forward in one brutal motion, his length barging inside me. I should have fainted right then and there from the insufferable amount of pain. Crying out loudly, I clutch my hands in fists, pressing them into the smooth stone block below me. Tears of agony spring from my eyes instantly and don't stop, since he's still actively stretching my insides. _..Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It hurts.. so bad._

Seeing the severity of my reaction, he slows down his tempo, but doesn't halt the torment. With his hand locked around my wrist, he pulls me close, bringing me in to face him. A mellow, but still alluring sneer, meets my expression full of suffering and anguish. The hand holding my wrist releases it, and instead it gently strokes my cheek, wiping the tears off. "My sweet fucking virgin. You should have told me when I asked before. Now we need to get you used to it the hard way."

Holding me in an embrace, now with both of his hands on my back, he slows down even further. Perhaps for his own benefit, too. The pressure he's causing against my insides slowly grows less painful as I start getting used to his movements. _How the hells.. is he so hard?! I can't think at all._ The entirety of my body focuses only on not breaking down in despairing distress. 

Noticing just how difficult it still is for me, he brings his lips over mine, kissing me with sincere affection and passion. My hands find their way to his hair and his back, while one of his hands slides back to my entrance. He's twisting his fingers around it in an accurate, circular motion, sending unknown sensation through my waist, legs and stomach. Like ardent bolts of carnal energy, alleviating most of the pain, turning it into a thing of the past. _How is he doing that?_

  
With my obvious change in responses to his repeating intrusions, he hastens his tempo again, growing hungrier and more desperate by the minute. One last kiss and he shifts his attention to my neck, grunting with each ravening thrust. This, of course, only allows me to fill the room with my sharp breathing and heavy moans. Biting my neck roughly at first, forcing a lustful cry, he sucks on the bite marks afterwards. Right at the scar. He doesn't care about it anymore. 

Completely lacking any remainder of my previous self-restraint, I moan Brash's name loudly. Again, again and again. Over and over. So many different sensations flood every cell in my body, so many feelings overcome my mind. His hand remains between my legs, fingers teasing in such a way it sends my eyes rolling to the back of my head. 

Listening to his name being repeated, watching me reach the point of madness only thanks to his touch, he leans in to my ear again and whispers, "I promised you'd repeat my name. Now come for me, so I can reward you." Letting me fall back onto the stone block, he grasps my thighs once more and begins thrusting with the same enthusiasm and lust as before. With the pain not obstructing my enjoyment anymore, I cry out in pleasure each time he heaves into me, displaying full force.

Pulsating electricity overcomes me, overflowing and bursting as I moan Brash's name again, more intensely than ever. Involuntarily arching my back, I push against the stone below me with tensed, open palms. A craving sated, one I wasn't even aware of. Blazing fire in my mind doused. Before I can even regain my senses, Brash jerks my entire body towards him, making me sit up. With the determination of a formidable army, he forces me down onto the ground, kneeling before him.

  
"Open," he commands, looking down at me with a smirk. So I do. This time it's not his fingers, though. Rather, it's his bulging member, covered in my own moisture. Wrapping his hand into my hair, he forces himself inside my mouth completely. "You know what to do, kitten. It's all yours," he says softly, grinning joyously at the events unravelling before him. Lips seizing him tighly, I rock my head back and forth. 

Deciding to be cheeky, I bite down incredibly softly. He throws me a complacent grin and clicks his tongue, "Careful now, sweetheart." No more biting. Looking up at him for guidance, and to see if he's enjoying it at all, I try my best at pleasing him. His constant expression of desire, temptation and lust tell me I'm doing it right. Moments later, he throws his head backwards and relaxes nearly every muscle I can see. The grip he holds on my hair tenses, forcing himself deeper into my throat, causing me to gag helplessly. 

And before I know it, my mouth and throat fill with what he called my 'reward', as he groans a loud 'fuck' through his gritted teeth. The sheer quantity of it shocks me. I doubt he needed much to send him over the edge. Struggling with what to do now, I decide the easiest option is probably to just swallow it all. I manage to do so, with some hassle and perhaps some awakening level of shame.  
  


* * *

  
I hear Brash exhale wildly as he regains some composure, "Where have you been my entire fucking life?"

Gathering my remaining strength, I shakily stand up, facing him with a weak smile. "I might have.. been a bit young for you. Maybe I still am. But I don't care."

He closes his eyes and frowns in apprehension. Opening them again, he kisses me deeply. So intensely, as if our lives depended on it. As if the world was about to end. As if Gods themselves were to descend and strike us both down any moment.

Once the kiss ends, Brash stares into my eyes and with a sad grin he says, "Let's get dressed before our asses freeze."

Chuckling lightly, I nod and head towards my armor, leggings and all the poor, sad, lonely belts. It takes me a moment before everything falls right back into its correct place.

 _I still can't believe me and Brash.. had sex. Gods! And.. it was definitely more intense than I could have ever imagined._ I shake my head modestly at the realisation. There is no denying that our feelings for one another can't be contained. No denying that we're both deeply infatuated with each other. I wonder what that means for us in the future?

Picking up my bag and placing it over my shoulder, I also grip my weapons. Definitely not as firmly as before. A considerable amount of my energy has just been exerted. Ready to leave the room, one I forgot is filled with corpses of people who were buried alive, I turn to Brash. He seems to have been examining me, and now that I'm looking at him, he approaches.

  
"Give me your hand," he says gently, offering me his open palm, while the other clutches his sword.

Happy to oblige, I sheath my shortsword and hold his hand instead. "Afraid I'll run? I thought you already knew I would never run from you," I tease with a cheery smile. 

Weaving his fingers into mine, he whispers sadly, "That's the problem."

Furrowing my eyebrows at his comment, I decide to let it go. Nothing really matters anymore. Finally I know for certain that he cares for me. And there's no possible way of anyone disproving that. What I feel is real, it's incredibly real. Scarily so.

  
Not even a minute has passed and we stop at a split corridor - three possible paths, plus the one we came from. Looking at Brash expectantly, I ask with hope dominating my voice, "So, which way do we go?"

Permanently frowning, he moves my body around, causing us to come face to face. Seeing the confused look on my face, he swiftly sheaths his sword and joins our free hands together, also.

"I'm so sorry, kitten, sweetie. It's a shitty task they're forcing me to do."

An ounce of fear creeps up on me. _What is he saying?_

"..But there is no choice. For me nor for you. It has to happen. I wish it didn't fucking have to be like this, but if it doesn't happen to you, it will happen to me and the entirety of the fucking Southern Alliance."

Shock dominates my expression.  
_  
_

_No... No, no, no. Not like this._

_It's clear, now._

_As clear as it is torturous._

_Betrayal.  
  
_

Mors warned me.

Sorin warned me.

Even Raze warned me.

And I didn't listen.

I didn't want to hear.

I didn't want to see.

  
Trying to free myself from his grasp, I find his hands locked around mine tightly.

Forcing his eyes shut, he throws me into the left corridor turn, making me fall to the ground. Or, more specifically, that's what should have happened. Instead, my body freezes in the air. 

Unable to act. Unable to move. Unable to speak.

  
Foreign steps approach me from farther down the corridor. Two female figures. An older and a younger woman.

_..The witches._

With a raspy voice, the old witch, presumably Rivera, addresses me, "Finally, you have arrived. Took you a while." Looking behind my levitating body, she shoots a deadly look in that direction. "A waste of breath you are, male. But I found a proper punishment for your unforgivable delay!" Her hand motions Brash to move towards her. And he does. 

If I could shut my eyes, I would. How can I ever look at him after what just happened? Whatever it even is. It seems this was always the plan, at least from what he said. Throwing me to the witches for some reason. 

_  
Raze?_

Nothing.

_..Mors?_

Nothing.

I am alone.

Alone and crushed.

  
"..Do it," Rivera beckons him towards me. "This shall be the first of many, **many** tests I have to go through to assess her durability, weaknesses and strengths. Having this happen from you will only make this experiment **that** much more rewarding!" Her voice breaks into a cruel chuckle.

The other woman, the younger one, can't even lift her head up from the ground. I can't discern much from under her hood, but she seems worried, or anxious.

"Why the fuck does any of that matter? Just get it over with already," Brash tries to sound authoritative and.. fails. The witch only cringes at his attempt, displaying a level of disappointment.

"No. You do it, or you can say goodbye to your lovely, simple life!" she grins at him maliciously.

He offers no response as she gives him something and he takes it into his hands.

His entire body shakes, barely noticeably.

Turning to me, he forces me to face him while he approaches.

When near enough, he shuts his eyes, and...

  
A sharpness enters my chest, right at my heart.

His face holds in a permanent blank.

Blood pours from my wound.

A dagger.

He's clutching its handle.

Blood veils my armor completely, turning it red.

Crimson liquid slowly pours onto the floor.

Everyone watches as I suffer.

When there is no more air for me to gasp, a look betrays Brash.

A look of despair.

  
I fade away.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My very first attempt at writing actual explicit smut. Please, if you have any sort of feedback (as in if I took too long to get into it, or if something seemed too excessive or missing), I'd really appreciate it!
> 
> Name chosen for obvious reasons, but also after the song I consider extremely fitting for B&B, incredible sound distracting you from the fucked up lyrics. [Into Your Heart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=80214E8FuBo)


	14. Scourged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Rivera captures Bright, she conducts a series of tests to see just how strong Bright's will is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is definitely disturbing. Not for the faint of heart. A line marks the beginning of the bad parts, so you can read until then if you don't want to risk anything!

Staring into an exquisite, beautifully decorated mirror, I brush my hair carefully. The new, gray tress dominates the front of my hair. I suppose I like how it looks. One stroke. Another. And another. The thick brush does wonders for my hair, dissolving all of the tangles. Once done, my hair falls fluffy onto my shoulders. Tying a ribbon around it, an energetic ponytail emerges from thin air.

As I spin around to check its sturdiness, the black and red dress I'm wearing cheerfully turns with me. A gorgeous dress. Falling right to my feet. 

Exiting the room, I find myself outdoors. A massive house stands behind me. Buoyant horizon. Green planes. Blue, sunny heaven. No clouds. A few trees extend far into the sky. Two children laugh heartily. A dog barks as they play together.

Seeing their joy, I can't help but smile and walk towards them. When they spot me, they interrupt their game of chase and run towards me with their arms open, colliding with my legs in a hug.

  
"Mommy! Saint said I smell like a demon!" the little boy complains, presumably about his sister. They're.. my children. Placing my hand onto his short, blonde hair, I pat him in reassurance, throwing him a genuine smile. The little girl breathes anxiously and pouts. 

"He's lying! Don't believe him, mommy! Brazen told me I sound like a dumb witch, so.. I pushed him. And now he's making things up!" Saint pleads with me. Threatening Brazen with her angry expression and crossed arms, she strikes a bit of fear into him. Burying his head further into my leg, I continue patting him as I now also pat Saint's red, wild hair. 

_This scene.. it makes my heart ache._

They both seem to be calming down only slowly. Saint sparks the conflict again as she kicks the boy in the foot. I chuckle at her stubbornness. Before they tear each other's heads off, I push them slightly further away from me by their shoulders and crouch down to meet their eye level. 

"Saint," I look at the girl, her eyes fiery with precious anger, "you need to take care of your brother. You're a big girl and you two need to protect each other. Now, as much as you don't want to, you really need to apologise for kicking Brazen. **And** for pushing him." Her eyes widen at my request, but she stops herself from protesting. Lowering her head and staring at the ground, she growls, "..I'm sorry."

That seems to calm the boy down a bit. Nervously shifting his eyes from her to me and back to her, he awkwardly pats her hair once and retreats the hand instantly. "It's.. alright.. I forgive you."

  
Steps approach us, coming from somewhere behind me. "What's going on here? Are you three plotting something?" A deep, harsh voice. Full of care and affection. Its tone suggest playfulness. Hearing it, my smile widens as I get up and meet the voice's owner.

And he's right there in front of me, not even a few feet. Waiting no more, my hands throw themselves around his neck as our lips meet in a safe, cosy embrace. Pulling back, I watch his expression for a moment. "I missed you," exits my mouth in a whisper.

Bringing his hand to my cheek, he smiles. "I was only gone for a few hours, sweetheart."

I nod sadly, "Exactly. That's a few too many, still."

And another kiss, more passionate this time.

"Eww!" sounds from behind me in unison, as Brazen and Saint share their opinion about our affection. For the first time, they actually agree on something willingly.

Interrupting our kiss, we smile at each other before I turn around, giving the children an amused look. "Now, now. I seem to remember you two were supposed to mop the first floor?" I announce. Their eyes widen as they glance at each other. Saint responds for the both of them, "We.. did that.. yesterday?"

Brash laughs from behind me, his hands wrapped around my waist, "I don't think so, pumpkin. You two should go already. Your parents are about to do more of what you find so disgusting." A revolted look shows up on both their faces as they run off towards the house.

Turning my body around to face him, a kiss lands on my neck, jaw, cheek and, finally, my lips. Breaking away, we stare deep into each other's eyes, searching for what we know is already there but can't be reached. Ever. The reality of our situation is too painful to handle. 

A despairing frown appears before me. "Bright.. I'm so fucking sorry. You know I-"

  
The entire world shakes vigorously. The scene disappears. I'm left alone in an empty pit of darkness.

A voice speaks from somewhere inside my mind. A raspy, old voice. A female voice.

"THAT IS WHAT YOUR MIND DREAMS OF? **PATHETIC**. YOUR MENTAL CAPABILITIES DISAPPOINT ME GREATLY. XAN'ARI, INJECT HER WITH THE CARDIOTOXIN, AIM FOR HER SUBCLAVIAN ARTERY."

A farther located voice responds, "..Yes, mistress."  
  


* * *

A piercing pinch sounds pain through my body. Soon after, a burning, acidic sensation flows through my entire being. Setting my blood ablaze. Searing my organs. 

  
The pit of emptiness I find myself in transforms. It's.. the cave. I'm pinned down on the ground, Garrosh holding me still with his legs. His ragged, heavy breaths reach my neck. _No, no, no, no!_ Struggling to free myself, I don't even budge. A monsterous laugh escapes him, aimed right at my ear, nearly deafening me. "No escape. Nobody can stop me now, demon whore."

Having his hands at the ready, they move to the belts of my chest armor. He needs no help this time. Breaking instantly under the force of his hands, they leave me exposed. Moving the armor aside, I lie bare before him. Glaring at the sight, he growls, "I'll fuck you hard, your knight won't even compare."

Steps interrupt him for a moment. A figure enters the cave. A male figure, sword drawn in his hand. The two men glance at each other and.. start laughing in thundering menace. Such a powerful laugh, Garrosh shakes me as a consequence.

"Came to watch?" he inquires in a deep, twisted voice, as he moves his palms over my chest.

"Might as well. I already had her cunt, you try her now," another twisted voice answers, supposedly Brash's, but the pitch sounds somewhat off.

A malicious sneer takes over Garrosh's face, "She'll grow to love my cock!"

His hands move to my leggings, tearing their belts in half, pulling them down my legs.

_No! Gods!_

Shutting my eyes, I scream out in terror. A high-pitched, intense scream. A scream of helplessness.

  
The ground underneath me shakes vigorously, just like it did before. Once I'm brave enough to open my eyes, the empty abyss meets me again. This time, I'm grateful for it.

The raspy voice is back.

"BETTER. BUT WE MUST NOT RELENT HERE. INJECT HER WITH THE BOTULINUM TOXIN NEXT, AIM FOR HER AXILLARY ARTERY. AND PUT THAT BEAUTIFUL COLLAR ON HER NECK."

After a moment of silence, the other voice responds shakily, "..Are you sure, mistress? She might fade away again if-"

The raspy voice violently shouts: "DO NOT QUESTION ME, XAN'ARI. JUST **DO IT**."

And the young woman answers, "Of course. Forgive me."

Another piercing pinch, increasingly more painful as the needle forces its way through my muscle. And right after, a different sensation flows through my body. Not the burning, acidic kind. Rather, a freezing, tearing one. Expanding my veins, nearly forcing them to explode open.

If only it ended there. As the voice, who I assume to be Rivera, commanded, something hugs my neck. Another piercing pain, incomparably more violent than the needle. Spikes enter my throat from all sides. I can't breathe. I can't even think. This torture makes me wish for death. Hopefully it takes me soon, sparing me from some of the unavoidable misery.

  
Instead of the abyss, a different area extends around me. It's the arena. Audience patiently awaits the event of the day. My death. With my weapons and armor at the ready, I feel somewhat safe. Absolutely mortified, but at least I am not pinned down anymore.

A figure emerges from the door opposite of me. A male figure, sword drawn in his hand. My opponent seems more enticed by the idea of my suffering than I remember. Much more. This enticement sounds a gut-wrenching feeling through my entire being. He waits for no cue and starts running at me, blade first. His hunger for pain and death can be observed from miles away.

Trembling, I prepare a guard. I have to survive long enough for Rivera to deem sufficient. As he swings for my stomach, I lift my arm, ready to deflect. But.. his sword passes right through my entire guard, as if it weren't there. As if my arm and sword were incorporeal. Unfortunately, it only applies to those two. His swing stops as he buries the blade in my side.

Gasping in shock and agony, I shudder and cry out. He responds to my reaction with a cruel, savage laugh. "Thought you could avoid me? Thought I would hold back? Thought I could never hurt you on purpose?" His free hand grasps my throat ruthlessly as he pulls the sword out. "Think again, whore." And he throws me to the ground, back first.

Pressing his heavy foot at my right ankle, he stops my leg from moving. A piercing stab enters my right thigh. The entire arena bursts out in appreciative applause and laughter as I cry tears of distress and anguish, squirming at the thought of more pain. Struggling with all I have, he doesn't relent in his hold. 

Another piercing stab, this time at my left thigh. Shutting my eyes in suffocating pain as I cry out again, tears furiously roll down my face and neck. "You're so beautiful when you scream. Scream for me, kitty girl!" he groans, nearly in pleasure, as he stabs me in my right arm. And my left right after. My cries become dry and I begin feeling myself fade.

He chuckles, "You know what's next, sweetheart." And before I can open my eyes fully, a piercing stab enters my heart, accompanied by a thunderous applause.

  
"GOOD ENOUGH. FOR TODAY. CLEAN HER UP WHEN SHE WAKES, I WANT TO KNOW HER EXACT THOUGHTS. PROBING HER MIND PROVED LESS REWARDING THAN I HAD ANTICIPATED."

"..What if she says nothing?"

"THEN **MAKE** HER SPEAK. WE HAVE TOOLS FOR THAT."

The other voice doesn't answer.

Silence.

Quiet spreads through all of my cells as my body gives up.

No more torment. Only comforting nothingness. For now.


	15. Peaceless Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awakening after Rivera's first experiments, Bright meets the witch's apprentice.

Clunking of metal wakes me from a deathly slumber. At first concluding those sounds stem from incoming torture, I notice they only occur when I move my hands. Both my arms are lifted, held by the sound's culprit. Hanging down from the ceiling, a cluster of what I assume are chains, ties my arms and hands together.

Opening my eyes for the first time, still drowsy and drained of hopefulness, I examine my tortured body. Seeing as I've been robbed of all my clothes, it's easy to spot the aftermath of Rivera's commands. Resistant bruises. Dried blood. No new scars - only the one from the arena.

Most importantly, though, something new steals all of my attention. Screws, spikes and nails have been run into my legs at some point. Somehow, I can't feel them at all. I must have lost all feeling. That would explain why I'm unable to react to any of this. My expression remains fixed in permanent despondency, gloom and woe.

I can't possibly imagine anything worse happening to me. I've nearly lost my will to live; my wishes for a happy future, justice or mercy. My last hope is that they kill me quickly. And I mean permanently. The amount of emotional anguish I'm going through, even without feeling the physical aspect of things.. I can't bear it.

  
I'm in another godsdamned stone room. I can't seem to ever escape them. This one looks the most menacing of them all, though. Additional chain clusters hang from the walls, thankfully they're unoccupied. A table stands to my left, covered with various petrifying tools, vials, injections and bloody bandages. A sturdy door placed farther on the wall offers despairing ideas of impossible escape.

The only other thing in this cold torture chamber is a simple chair, located at the other side of the room. It's rather dark there and I can't see it very well. The light that pours from somewhere above me doesn't reach it, only illuminating my side of the room. But I can still see clearly enough to notice movement. The shadow that loomed over the chair moves and rises.

"..I numbed your body with ginger and feverfew. All this needless pain.. I can't stand watching it, let alone causing it." It's the voice from earlier - the young woman. She sounds extremely perturbed and in considerable distress, her voice shaking with every word. 

Only now, having some resemblance of strength to focus, I notice her mild, foreign accent. The emphasis and pronunciation are completely alien to me, I can't say where she hails from. Rose is definitely a foreigner as well, but her speech would never give that fact away. Only her appearance.

At first she only stands beside the chair, but decides to drag it towards me. Once she reaches the half-way point of the room, she puts the chair down, sitting on it again. Her head hangs low the entire time, brown hair pouring out from under her hood.

"I despise myself for causing you so much agony. Not more than you must despise me, of course..." Hands fly up under the hood, palms aiming towards her face. No reaction escapes me. Nothing at all. Still a blank expression. Either the herbs she used were of great potency, or I finally broke under the pressure and horribleness.

With a ragged sigh, she mumbles erratically through her covered mouth, "This is a nightmare! I can't even begin to imagine what **you** ' **re** going through. If only there was a way for me to help. But.." With a silent sob, she swiftly moves her hands away and stands up, "..I can't. There is no choice." Approaching the table, she grabs some of the bloody bandages and heads towards me.

  
Now that she's close enough, I finally see her face in full detail as she looks up, hood leaning backwards. She can't possibly be much older than me. No scars. No wrinkles. Smooth, perfect, tan skin. Straight hair in the colour of bark. Despairing brown eyes look at me in guilt. Searching for forgiveness they know isn't reachable. Lowering her gaze, she brings the bandages to my body and begins wiping all the blood off.

_What does she want? Is she just another person trying to gain my trust? Another person to betray, use or wound me? Considering she's already done the last, I'd say her chances at my trust are approximately.. null._

Clearing my throat and pushing through the dryness of it, I rasp, "Who the hells.. are you? And why.. should I care.. about your guilt? Just kill me already.. if you care about.. the suffering you caused. Or what I'm.. going through, at all." 

Hearing my words, she interrupts cleaning the blood for a moment. With her head hanging as low as she can force it, she continues wiping. "My name.. I'm Xan'Ari. Or.. Ari. I know my guilt and shame are meaningless together with my actions. Together with.. what I did. But I swear, there is no choice. For me and anyone else who deals with Rivera," she lets out with another sob.

. _.Right. It sounded awfully difficult when she was commanded to inject me. Even now, she's only acting on Rivera's commands. And.. then there's Brash._ A deep frown breaks my expressionlessness. Calling my heart broken seems like a supreme understatement. It's been yanked right out of my ribcage, torn in two by the person who could have caused the most damage.

"Then let me go. Why all this.. torture? What have I.. done to deserve this? Any of it?" I ask weakly, still exhausted from the forced resurrection.

Ari shakes her head lightly as she cleans my raised arms. "Rivera needs to.. conduct experiments. To see just how powerful your heart is before she takes it. Or before she.. gives it to me."

With an agape mouth, I glare at her lowered head. _So, she might be the person who eats my heart?_ Thrashing my body as much as I can, trying to push her away, I don't observe much of a success. Too weak. Still too weak. "Get off.. me!" I rasp drily again, "Why would you even.. want my heart? I thought witches didn't.. care for demonic powers. I guess you two.. are just.. fucking insane."

  
Placing the dirty bandage on the table, she picks up new ones, moving to clean my pierced legs. Staggering at the sight, she continues anyway, trying to avoid the torturous tools. "You're right. We don't care for the powers. Only the limited immortality. Unlike Orchid, Rivera doesn't care for living forever. Only surviving."

. _.The hells is she saying? Taking Orchid's name into her mouth._ Even if Orchid only meant to use me, she unknowingly saved my life. I suppose her intentions are.. somewhat forgiveable? As far as my experience with witches goes, she's the best one so far. The one in the arena enjoyed my pain. And the two here are completely mad.

"How dare you.. talk about.. Orchid. You two are.. nothing in comparison," I growl in another rasp, throat beginning to ache more and more with every word.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she whimpers. _This one is not anywhere near the formidability of Rivera_. "But Orchid wasn't as good as you remember her. We were aware of her intentions with you. She dealt with different overlords and took the flesh of each! When Rivera realised what Orchid was doing-" Before continuing the tale of events that unfolded without my knowing, she stops abruptly. Perhaps noticing she said something she shouldn't have, Ari appears terrified to take another breath.

Stepping away from me, she throws the bandages on the table and swiftly approaches the door. When clutching its handle, she turns to me and says, "Please, rest. I can't tell what she wants to do with you. It may be worse than anything imaginable. I'm sorry, Bright." And she's gone. Leaving me alone in this empty, cursed cell.

  
'Worse than anything imaginable.' I suppose death is too much to ask for. Ari said Rivera means to conduct more experiments on me. Like I'm a rat, trapped in a maze with no way out. She watches me as I lose hope of all escape. Watches me as the realisation falls - the knowledge that my life is no longer my own. 

How can one find hope in spite of everything? How can one see through the suffocating clouds of misery? How can one pierce the deafening silence of loneliness?

The silence depresses me.

But..  
  
It isn’t the silence of silence.  
  
It is my own silence.  
  
The silence of my soul.  
  
The silence of all hope.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm slowly getting more and more depressing with the story lol. I promise, it won't be like this forever. But, after all, this is the lowest of all low. You might notice a few Sylvia Plath quotes throughout this and the next chapter because of that.


	16. The Bell Jar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dream-like state of unconsciousness. Bright ponders her fate as darkness begins overwhelming her.

An abyss of my own making.

Lying on my back against the dark, coarse ground, my legs rest carelessly thrown to the left. So do my arms. I only breathe. Nothing else. Breathe in. Breathe out.

  
Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

And only that.

  
_Perhaps I can't dream of anything anymore._  
  
All of my dreams, shattered.  
Ripped right out.  
Torn by betrayal.  
Mutilated by torture.  
Demolished by reality.

I can't see my own body when I look down. Darkness. A complete darkness of mind and spirit. It's suffocating. Even then, I know I am alone. I need not see. I need not look. I need not be told.

The ground holds wonderfully solid. It's comforting to know I have fallen and can fall no farther. I see no point in getting up. No point in dreaming. No point in praying for escape. There is nothing for me to look forward to.

_Is there no way out of my mind?_

I've been warned repeatedly, told of my impending doom. Mors knew my trust would lead to suffering, increasing the severity of the incoming betrayal.

  
'You should not trust him.'

'Do not let your feelings cloud your judgement.'

'It will cost you.'

  
And she was right entirely, through and through. I suppose my subconsciousness was aware of it, also. Always warning me of the future. Always telling the story of blood, betrayal and death. But there are other things that Mors said. Things that ring gravely in my head. Like a bell at the top of a ruined, church tower.

  
'Learn from us.'

'Gain perspective and be just.'

'Only then will your heart remain true.'

  
_Be just._ Where is **my** justice? Where is **my** retribution? I advocated mercy over all in the past. Forgiveness and understanding. Then I learned and advocated justice. Now, having experienced neither from anyone, it seems I have none to spare.

_'It's a basic principle of the Universe that every action will create an equal and opposing reaction.'_

For every action. For every pain. For every betrayal. A piece of me falls off, a piece of me fades. And finally, now I lie here. Like shattered glass at the bottom of a red sea. Drowned by my own ignorance.

  
Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

And something else.

  
A speck of wrath. Aimless anger. The crushed pieces of me pull together by the gravity of something inside. Something dark. A craving.

Darkness. It turns crimson, outlining my body on the ground. As if blood poured out of me, illuminating my aura. Announcing a reason to keep a grasp over sanity.

Red opens my eyes. The way no colour ever did before. Red like roses. Red like blood. Red like..

I awake.  
  



	17. No Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rivera returns, this time alone. Her cunning cruelty shines through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Another disturbing chapter. I included a summary of the chapter in the end notes, if reading distressing things isn't something you can deal with easily!

More clunking of chains. The same disturbing, cold room meets me as I open my eyes. No more Ari. The table has also been cleaned up somewhat. Different tools lie on top of it. The most menacing weapons and instruments I've ever seen. A dull, tame shiver runs through my body. Whatever awaits me, it will hurt. Rivera will make sure of that.

Thinking back to what I remember from the torture nightmares, I could hear her voice quite clearly. Barking orders at Ari with pleasure. Wicked enjoyment. I barely know anything about her, but her pure passion for brutal cruelty stands uncontainable. If I didn't know she wasn't a demonheart, considering what Ari revealed, I'd say she were a black one. A perfect idol to the Serpent's guild. Even their cruelty was restrained in comparison. Hers overflows with no obstructions, only stopping when she tires of it.

 _So, she wants to study me. Then take my heart and consume it, killing me in the process. Absorbing my powers. Destroying my entire existence._ I thought I had no reason to support my will to live. Everything has been taken from me. But that doesn't automatically mean I want to die, does it? Of course it doesn't. Of course I don't. 

  
The door at the other side of the room swings open, colliding with the wall next to it. Vigorous clunking of chains hides my surprised gasp. Bouncing off the wall, the doorway stays empty for a while. Almost as if to strike fear into my heart by the absence of information. _That must only mean one thing._

Rivera.

Entering the room slowly, step by step, she nears my bare, hung body. Her slow movements terrify me more than quick ones would. And.. here she is. Only a few inches from me now. Her dark eyes wander from my pierced legs to my chest and then my horrified expression. With a satisfied, truly evil glare, she grins. 

Running a finger in a vertical line, all the way down my torso, she says, "No wonder he couldn't resist the temptation. I can hardly keep **myself** back. But.." the finger is pulled back as her entire body playfully twists, suddenly facing the table full of instruments, "..we have important things to do today!" she exclaims, chipper at the thought. "No use wasting time!"

Rummaging through the tools, she carelessly picks something up while her gaze stays focused on me. "Let's see what fate has chosen for you. Hopefully, it's something interesting," Rivera announces light-heartedly. The intrument resembles a thick, blunt icepick. Holding it far from her line of sight, arm completely extended, she sneers avidly. Trembling, I watch the icepick with horror. 

  
It moves in my direction as Rivera charges her arm forward.

The excrutiating impact forces a loud scream out of me as a reaction.

  
Examining her choice of weapon, one she aimed right at my hip, she sighs, "Oh well, could have been more interesting." While I cry out in constant pain, she admires my expression with sadistic appreciation. "Maybe **this** attempt will be proper!" she menaces, leaving the icepick buried inside the hip. Returning to the table, she hums a cheery tune while picking out another tool at random. Having grasped one, she sings an excited 'ooh', most likely recognising the shape of the handle even without looking.

  
Another charge. 

  
Decimating agony fills the room as the weapon, a serrated dirk, barges its way under my left armpit. Asphyxiating hurt stops me from thinking completely. Shaking aggressively, I try to push Rivera off me. She doesn't even budge. My struggle only fuels her desire to cause more torment.

"Gods, I wish we could have this much fun every day. And here I thought nothing could top that gorgeous moment of betrayal. When he thrust the dagger into your heart.." her hands run alongside her body as she leaves the dagger inside. "Both physically and metaphorically! I'm just a sucker for hidden meanings. Promise you won't laugh!" A laugh of her own comes out. An innocent giggle. All the while I shriek and bawl in never-ending misery.

"..I do wonder, just **why** did it take him so long to bring you here? Wait, don't tell me, I'll guess!" Putting one finger over her sealed lips, she appears in deep thought. _She's.. insane. Truly mad._ Her complete denial and dismissal of my screams assures me of that. As if she sees afflicting despondency like a fun sport. An amusing pastime.

Raising the finger previously keeping her lips closed, the expression of intrigue changes to one of conclusion. "I've got it!" she twists on a heel to look into my eyes. "As unlikely as it sounds, you two seem to have grown fond of each other. Has it gone as far as to call it 'being in love'?" she cringes at the phrase. "Then again, I suppose it matters not. He left you in my punctual care. He fulfilled his task. That should be reason enough to despise him."

_How can she just.. stand there, monologuing.. while I cry, sob and whimper? How is this.. not enough already? And now she means to.. sear my mind with painful reminders of Brash._

  
Freezing in place for a short while, she brings the finger back to her face, this time targetting her chin. Another moment full of intense plotting. Mouthing off inaudible words, her expression progressively tenses further. Shifting from an amused look to cold cruelty, ending on a mischievous smirk full of ideas. 

That look.   
That fucking look.   
She figured out something to do.   
Something worse than whatever she's done so far.

With her calculated, sadistic glare aimed at a wall, she whispers, "..Do you, though?" before turning to face me once more. "Do you despise him? He always knew what fate would befall you. Yet he still allowed you to get attached. And then he took your body, right before having to hand you over," she smiles at the thought. Not wanting to listen any more, I tug as hard as I can at the chains, trying to force them to fall down. Nothing. Nothing at all.

"If he weren't so revolting, I would have appreciated the perfect state of destruction he delivered you in. However intentional. Either way," she opens her mouth slightly to show me a smile bejewelled by her threatening teeth. "I'm sure thinking about his betrayal must be unbelievably painful. And I would just **detest** myself if you were reminded of it. Constantly. Permanently. Until I show enough mercy to end your wretched existence."

Her words strike fear into my heart. A horrible plan must have conjured itself inside her mind. 

  
Swiftly turning to the table once more, she instantly picks up a dagger. She knew its location accurately, picking it up with no hesitation. It's a familiar dagger. It's my dagger. Licking her lips, she examines it. "Such an exquisite piece of art. Leaving it unattended seems a shame. Leaving it actionless even more so. Let's change that, then," she rasps, now licking the side of the blade instead. Her absolute lack of sanity fills me with baleful despair, even the excrutiating pain pales in comparison. The fearful anticipation of her next move overwhelms my spirit fully.

One step.   
Another.   
And the last.

Taking in every moment of my terror with joy, she reaches me once more. Her face completely lit up in excitement and exhilaration, mouth agape, eyes wide open to not miss a single detail.

"How about we grant you one of these reminders?"

Bringing her free hand towards the blade, she chants a short spell. 

"Vapor ignis."

A steam of contained, fiery magic grazes the blade, turning it hot red inconcievably quickly. However high the heat of the spell is, it's clearly intense enough to heat up steel within moments. Retreating the hand again, she now stands before me, holding a searing dagger.

Whatever she means to do.. it will hurt. A lot. More than what she did minutes ago, even if I thought it impossible. Squirming in my forced hold, I can't help but break my silence with a cry, "Please, don't.." 

A giggle. "Begging me to stop? Finally." Her eyes light up. "That only makes it so much better. **Thank you**. Now, please, promise you'll cry!"

  
Not a second wasted.

  
Her free hand wraps itself into my hair, holding my head by it, ensuring my unachievable escape. No matter how violently I thrash it, she counteracts with a pull and forces me back. Forces me to watch as she brings the blade close to my face.

"So, which one should we do? Left or right? Left for a perfect copy? Right for the inescapable reminder when meeting reflection?" Suddenly gasping, she adds in a high-pitched voice, "Ah! Note - bring a mirror. I suppose that decision means we're going for the right one!"

Pulling my hair back sadistically, she brings the red hot blade before my right eye. I can feel the heat without it even touching my skin. Shutting my eyes in horror, I can't bear to see her next course of action. I need not see. I'll know without looking.

And there it is. She runs the blade along my skin. Slowly. Not even with the intention to slice. Only to burn. At first, at least. As I shriek and shed tears of pain, she presses the blade in further, branding a small portion of my forehead, brow and cheek. Still not relenting, Rivera brings her face to mine and, leaning right to my unwounded cheek, she kisses my tears off, so excitedly it nears arousal.

"How does it feel, female? Knowing your body is permanently branded with a mark of his betrayal? How is it?! **Tell me!** " she yells out before forcing her lips on mine, pressing the blade deeper. I can feel blood pouring down my skin, staining the right side of my face and continuing towards my neck and farther still.

  
Withdrawing from the monstrous grasp, she pulls the blade away and lets my hair go, taking a few steps back to admire her work. I can't control my breathing. My head hangs as low as my spine allows. I never would have imagined such intense torture would befall me. This is like a scene from the worst nightmare, one even my mind could not conjure.

"Oh and, don't worry, my 'gift' to you won't disappear like the others! The fun thing about heat is, when hot enough to sear tissue, it stops that part of you from regenerating! Isn't that just the best thing you've ever heard?" she heartily laughs. Passion for cruelty of my situation sounds true in the tone.

_Fire.. stops.. regeneration?_

"Of course, you need not worry about that. You won't live much longer. This experiment gave me vast amounts of information! Even then, it's a shame you're not quite as pretty as you were before," she announces, her voice slowly turning sour and bitter. "At least you can't seduce Xan'Ari no longer. Not that you were ever capable!" Rivera nearly barks out, breaking character.

Throwing the bloody blade back onto the table, she looks me up and down again. A satisfied smirk returns. "Oh well! Time to visit the doctor! I noticed you suffer from some heart problems. Let's see about removing those." Extending her arm, still covered in blood that poured from my face, she swiftly draws a symbol with only her index finger. 

"Dormitabis!" 

And that is the last thing I remember. A slumber spell. I can still think, but feel nothing. As if locked in my mind until I wake again. The pain is gone. The first mercy Rivera has granted me, but it's clear there is intention behind it.

She branded me. My right eye. She gave me a permanent scar. One like Brash has, but without any damage done to my eye. All for the sake of torment.

'I'll bring a mirror so you can see his betrayal.'

  
Before she came into the room, I had difficulty thinking of a reason to hold on. But now.. She's given me one. She **is** one.

Mors mentioned my destiny not ending here. And that Raze would save me. I can't say exactly how true those statements are, or whether this 'rescue' is going to take place at all. I've been locked in this cell for.. two, three, maybe four days? A couple, definitely. 

Whenever there is a chance for my escape, I'm taking it.   
  


No matter the consequences.

Whatever happens. 

Whatever comes next. 

I'll return Rivera the favour.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Rivera enters Bright's cell and tortures her in various ways. Realising just how much enjoyment she recieved from witnessing Brash stab Bright in the heart, she gives Bright a permanent reminder using high intensity heat - a scar over her right eye (not left like Brash has, but right because of how a reflection would show the scar). Rivera notes her intention of bringing a mirror over to watch for a reaction. Deciding enough is enough, she puts a slumber spell over Bright, saying 'her heart's suffering will be removed.' This experience gives Bright a new reason to hold on - revenge.


	18. Red Mist Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last awakening in the cell.

Death. At some point during my unconsciousness, I died. I wasn't aware of it. It's clear only now that I'm regaining control over my body. No more pain. The cruel instruments are gone.

I open my eyes. A new object captivates me instantly. 

A mirror. Standing right in front of me, a few feet away. Barely reflecting my hung, scarred body in the room's dim lighting. The pins are gone from my legs, the two weapon wounds from Rivera's visit are healed, the one on the face is fully visible. A new scar greets me. A wide scar across my chest, over my heart.

_Psychotic.. fucking bitch. Is she trying to.. make me look exactly like.. him?_

Speaking of which; the other addition to my growing collection - a scar over my right eye. It's not nearly as deep as it felt when being inflicted. Not even crossing my eye, only the browbone and partially the cheek. Still, it's enough to make my stomach swirl in angst. Even then, anger takes priority. A mild, calculated anger. Not the shaking-with-fury kind, rather a quietly-building-tornado kind, waiting to roar and rampage at the perfect moment. 

_I need to get out of here. Now. Get out and find her. Get out and kill her. Get out and discover the reasons._ Perhaps not in this exact order, but everything is too fucked for me to think. With pain absent for the moment, I look around for anything to help. Apart from the mirror, everything else seems the same. Chains, table with the previously present tools and the chair. I can't move from where I am - I've tried that before already. What I haven't tried yet, is.. the screws connecting the chains that confine me to the same spot and the ceiling.

  
I imagine the screws pulling downwards.   
Falling to the ground.  
Releasing the hold on the chains.  
No palm this time.  
Again.   
Again.  
One moves slightly.  
Again.  
So does the other, now.  
Fall down. Drop to the ground.  
And they do.  
They both fall.  
  


They're relatively small, smaller than the biggest rock I brought towards myself before. No palm this time. A different intention completely. I succeeded. At least in using my control. Once the screws fall down, the hold they had on the chains is revealed to be null. They don't even budge, only appear to extend farther inside the ceiling, firmly stuck in the stone.

_..Fuck. Okay, what else can I do? The chains won't move any further. There is a lock between them, right above my wrists. If I can get some tool, I could grasp it in my hand and pry the lock open?_

Searching the table for something sturdy enough as to not break but big enough to work, I don't find many options. From the looks of it, the only possibility seems to be that dull, thick icepick Rivera used before. My blood stains it still.

_Whatever, it's just blood. I need to leave this fucking room._

I focus on it again. Just like with the screws. But I've not been able to move an object as big as my dagger before. Especially not without my palms at the ready. Then again, I have privacy to train here, if nothing else.

  
I focus harder.  
Imagining the icepick lift from the pile of instruments.  
Floating.

  
It does for a while. Lifting from the table momentarily, it drops back down. 

_That won't do._

A painfully monotone half hour passes before I achieve desired result. The result being.. making the icepick float without it dropping back onto the table. Not even half-way done with my current goal. Great.

Another half hour of me trying to float the icepick towards my hand passes. Drastically less successful than the previous one. Sure, it **does** move while levitating, but only slightly. Still hovering over the table. _Fucking hells. I don't have the energy, honestly. It seemed much easier when I could use my palms._

Even though losing only an omittable portion of focus, the icepick drops onto the table in ringing pinches. _Shit. I hope neither of the two heard anything._ Using control clearly won't get me out of this. The only option I have left is my amulet. But I know no spells, only the sacrificial one, and Mors made it clear that it won't work again.

  
Raze hasn't contacted me this entire time. Either he doesn't wish to, or he can't. Just like when I was imprisoned. He said the prison was protected by a magical barrier preventing communication. I can't begin to imagine what lengthy precautions Rivera must have taken, taking her total insanity into account.

_Raze? Can you hear me?_

Nothing. No surprise there.

 _But.. hmm._ Maybe Raze can still hear me? Perhaps just not respond? Rivera may have only blocked out the incoming magic. I doubt she would want to seal herself from using her own spells. And she would never expect me to start casting anything, either.

_Raze, contact Mors. I'm not sure how to, but she could use my amulet before, even from Oblivion. Or, at least, cast spells through it. Maybe you could somehow use it to communicate with her? I don't have much time left._

And that's that. Hopefully he heard me. Nothing else I can do. Only wait. Wait and pray for rescue. The only other option seems to be my death.

***

Hours must have passed. Nothing happened, which is surprising, considering how enjoyable Rivera finds tormenting me. The room quickly grows hotter and hotter. This sensation wakes me from my momentary slumber, forcing me to frantically look for its cause.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary. Everything is in the same-

  
A shadow. An unusual one. It extends behind the mirror, only barely noticeable. Someone may have been watching me before I woke, now hiding behind the single piece of decorative furnishing in the room.

"Who's there?" I ask quietly. 

A tame laugh. Not a female one. That eliminates everyone I know is in this place. Tomb. Ruin. Wherever it is I am.

"I thought you would know, darling. You **did** call me, after all."

The shadow turns into a figure, stepping in front of the mirror, blocking my reflection. Tensing my jaw, I am instantly reminded of how Sorin looked. This being seems similar in some aspects. Red skin. Horns. Wings. Tail. Long, straight, dark hair. A very short beard hangs down from his chin. Deformed legs; not the dragon-like kind Sorin had, but goat-like instead. And another difference, his skin isn't protected by thick scales. Without most of these features, he might honestly pass for a human. _A demonspawn_. _And he said 'I called him.'_

"..Raze? Is that you?" I ask warily, brows furrowed.

A smirk. For the first time, I witness it on my own instead of only hearing it. "The one and only. Take in the form of your saviour, darling!" he declares, extending his arms and wings as far as possible, dominating the space around himself. "I heard your desperate plea and came to rescue you."

 _How is it possible he looks so adult? Isn't he supposed to be a few months old only? Godsdamned demons_. It seems they rush through their childhood to reduce their vulnerability. Unlike us, who are vulnerable for years before becoming independent at all.

Lowering his arms and retreating the wings, he continues enthusiastically, "Now, as much as I enjoy watching you displayed so desperately here, it's time to get you out of the chains. What use would you be to me, completely broken?" With a laugh, he reaches one of his hands to the lock. Squeezing it tightly, it breaks under the obvious pressure.

_What the.. How strong is he?_

  
The moment he removes the lock clasping the chains together, I fall to the ground, face first. I suppose my legs haven't been supporting my body this entire time. Crouching down, he offers his arm and, holding me around the waist, he hoists me from the stone floor.

"My, my. So weak. So frail. So.. smooth," he whispers into my ear. Hearing the last part, I push myself off of him with a growl, not caring about the consequences. I fall back down. I don't care, I won't let anyone touch me. Not after all that happened. My reaction seems to genuinely amuse him, though.

Raze laughs under his breath, "Still the same stubborn, naive girl Orchid wrote about, I see? And here I thought something would have changed when the barbarian-"

"Don't say another fucking word!" I scream out, voice twisted in fury.

He watches me for a while, examining my expression and pain. "My apologies, dear. I understand that topic is highly undesirable." As a sign of peace, he offers me his hand. A hand to pull me up. I cringe at the gesture and adamantly refuse. Pressing my palms against the ground, I force myself to stand up on my own. However painful, I succeed at it through sheer will.

Relying on my legs doesn't seem to be the smartest idea at the moment - they're still rather mangled from what transpired. Meeting Raze's face again, I notice a fragment of concern among all the disappointment his expression showers me with. _Whatever.  
  
_

"As grateful as I am for your help," I begin, turning my attention towards the table to my left, "there is a witch that needs killing." Finally, I clutch my dagger once more. Stained in blood and tears, it doesn't shake me. I am never letting it get away again.

Raze chuckles at my determination, "You mean to kill the witch? Right now? Barely standing? Your body completely exposed? No protection from spells? Only wielding a single dagger?" Listing all the observations, he laughs heartily, his tail twisting around. "Darling, you should probably first figure out what it is the witch did. Your total lack of information would only get you killed... Again."

"What did she do?" More frowns. I can't stop them. They're the only thing I have left in my repertoire of expressions. Moving aside from the mirror and farther from me as well, he beckons me to meet my reflection. Wary of his intentions, I approach slowly, watching his every move, until..

There I am again. Red, messy hair with a gray streak hidden behind other wild tresses. Scar across my right eye, neck, heart and stomach. 

Quite the collection. Either way, on closer inspection, all but the heart scar appear somewhat mild. Perhaps this one will lessen in severity with time, too? Right now it looks incredibly gory. As if Rivera opened my entire chest and played around with my organs.

"Your latest addition wasn't inflicted for the pleasure of giving you another painful reminder. Well, at least not as the only reason. The primary one being her removing your heart. She made you heartless."

  
Silence. My repertoire expands by another expression - shock. I am abusing that one fully now.

_  
What-_ "-the fuck?!" I exclaim, staring at the scar in the reflection. "Removed my heart? Where is it? How am I not dead?"

"All good questions, and all will be answered once we leave this place."

My confused frown pierces him through the mirror. "..Leave? I told you she needs to die. I can't leave until then."

A look full of unamused disappointment. "Let me reiterate my earlier point; hopefully you listen this time. In your current state, all that will happen is your death. She has your heart in an easily accessible location, allowing her to incapacitate you effortlessly. And that's the least of your issues, as well."

Before continuing, Raze takes me by the shoulders and turns me to face him. "If she sees or hears you coming, you won't take another step without her permission. These ruins are also littered with traps. And to top it all off, over the years of dealing with various subjects, Rivera conjured a protection spell over herself. None of her rats, which means you as well, can harm her. She is **the** most powerful witch in the south of Shermyr at the moment. Underestimating her is the last mistake you'll ever make." 

_  
..Fuck._ My glare digs into Raze's chest, as if an answer lied somewhere inside his ribcage. Unfortunately, it doesn't. All that he just revealed.. it's a lot. "But.. she has to die."

With a snicker he lets my shoulders go and walks towards the door, leaving me alone in front of the mirror. "We have a plan already, Mors and I. First things first - there is something you need to do. Meet me in the hallway when you're ready, darling." Opening the sturdy door, which was apparently unlocked the entire time, he exits the room. I suppose there was never any need to lock it. And when he shuts it, my cell returns to its previous quiet.

A while full of thoughts passes. 

No heart, huh? No wonder I feel so empty. And from what Raze just said, dealing with Rivera won't be easy, if even possible. Turning my body to the side, I meet the reflection again. Is it my own reflection, though? All I see is a broken girl, resembling me only in appearance. This image.. This likeness.. This **isn't** me.  
  


Smash.

  
With the hilt of the dagger, I break the mirror. Break the reflection. Pieces of shattered glass rain down. Some slash my hand in the process, but that bothers me not. The pain is mild and the wounds heal quickly.

Before I head to the door, I stop by the table. No shortswords, but there is that serrated dirk Rivera stabbed me with. Picking it up, I find myself armed again. Still fully exposed but armed. Moving towards the door, I exit.

  
The stone hallway I just entered extends in two directions - forward and to the right. My cell seems to be located right in the corner. Next to my door hangs a tag reading: 'Red Affliction; #02'. Rivera must have heard of the Serpents encounter. But I do wonder, what did they think of our escape? How did they rationalise it?

Every wall bears torches separated by a few feet each. Raze stands in front of me and, seeing my new weapon, he smirks. "As I said, there is something you need to do first. Only then we may head towards your heart. I found its location, going through Rivera's journal." His smirk turns devious, "I will let you read it once we're safe."

Back to a full frown. "So, what is it I must do?"

"Come with me." 

Beckoning me to follow him, I do so with increased suspicion, gripping both weapons warily. I've never met him before, after all. Plus, he is a demonspawn. Likely not the most trustworthy kind of a being. Then again, I suppose I am demonic, too.

  
We come to a full stop in front of a reinforced iron door. Somewhat similar in shape to mine, but sturdier and bulkier in comparison. The tag next to it reads 'Red Affliction; #01'. Obviously, that means she's keeping another poor soul tortured here. And since the tag says '#01', the prisoner must have been here a long time. Or at least before I was captured.

"Rivera keeps a red rat. A red demonheart. It's a wretched soul twisted by torment, praying for death. Kill it, cut its heart out and devour it. Your act will be one of mercy. And your chances of achieving revenge will increase exponentially!" he announces excitedly.

A disgusted frown. "You mean me to consume someone's heart? Someone also tortured by Rivera? Have you gone **mad**? And don't call the prisoner 'it', you bastard. They're a person, regardless of how twisted they've become from the torment. We're saving them. I'm not leaving anyone behind, knowing what the perverse witch is capable of," I growl at his suggestion.

His excitement flutters away, turning into another look of disappointment. "And here I thought you cared about justice. Do you not wish to avenge yourself? If you kill this red and take its powers, the witch may die today," he leans closer to my face and continues, "If you do it, I will help you get your revenge right now."

His offer entices me greatly. Seeing her suffering is kind of the only thing I wish for presently. But I won't do it over an innocent life. Never. I answered Sorin's question with that, and I stand by it still.  
  


"Let me in."

He smiles widely. Opening the door to the red's cell, a heavy, poisonous cloud pours out. I instantly cover my mouth with a hand. Even a small amount of it causes quite the reaction from my lungs. "What the.. hells is that?!" I rasp while coughing, struggling for air.

"Just one of Rivera's tortures. You were somewhat fortunate in her level of savagery. Having looked through a few cells, desperate fates met most of the corpses," he explains calmly.

_Gods.. How can one be so cruel?_

A few moments later, the air clears. Poison still pours out the room, but sits at the ground instead. The cell must have been completely condensed with it. Either way, I grab one of the torches and head inside.  
  


The cell is incredibly dark - no source of light like I had. It's also much smaller. _Who could have guessed Rivera gave me a luxurious torture chamber?_ I cringe at the thought. As comical as it may be, at this moment I've no desire to laugh.

 _I hope Raze won't be too disappointed with me when he finds out I don't mean to kill the prisoner. All I need is Rivera dead._ I believe Mors may be able to help in that regard. She's incredibly powerful and experienced. If she were willing to teach-

I gasp out and stop, finally seeing the outline of the prisoner's body lying on the floor, covered in the poison mist. They seem to be unconscious, perhaps in the state of resurrection. Either way, I do not linger. Closing the distance, I crouch down next to them and examine their face for signs of life.

  
And before I know it, I jump away, head and back colliding with one of the stone walls, forcing me to cry out in pain. But perhaps it wasn't the impact against the wall that elicited the cry. It was the painful realisation. Breathing heavily, my hands start trembling - one holding the new weapon, the other clutching both the torch and my dagger. Dropping the dirk, I move the torch to my left hand. Carefully crawling towards the prisoner, I stop when I'm leaning directly over their motionless body.  
  


. _.A demonheart? All this time, he was a red demonheart? All this time.. Rivera's subject.  
_

It really is him. The same scars on his nearly completely exposed body. Remembering his sleeping expression, this one is nothing like it. No twitches of anger. Just emptiness. No struggle. Nothing at all. He's dead. I wonder just how many times he died here. So much dried blood rests below him. A monsterous amount.

I feel very still, watching him. Still and empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel. Moving dully along in the middle of all the hullabaloo.

Tubes stick out of his body in various places. A clear liquid of some sort flows through them. Most likely the same toxins I was injected with. Toxins causing torturous hallucinations. Without a thought, I pull them all out, interrupting the input of more torture. Blood pours out from the spots of skin I had freed. The wounds aren't healing, at least not as quickly as mine do. I don't even know why I did that, it just seemed like a natural reaction. 

Once the blood seems to stop pouring, I change position and sit next to Brash's helpless body.  
  


"A red demonheart. A red 'warrior'. I guess a part of me must have known this whole time. And apparently you're Rivera's experiment as well," I say somewhat shakily, knowing full-well he most likely can't hear anything. That's honestly the point. Noticing the exact likeness of our chest scars, another realisation comes over me.

"..So, the scar.. She took your heart out. Before we even met." My armed hand reaches out to touch the scar but stops, only hovering over it. Instantly I pull it back towards myself, clutching the dagger even tighter. "Well, I definitely didn't expect our first meeting to go like this. I thought of.. killing you.. for all the suffering that your actions caused me."

I breathe in deeply. The poison is slowly growing in its power over me. Even if it hangs low, it enters my lungs in low doses. "I'm supposed to be just. To gain perspective before taking action. Maybe that's the only reason you don't die right here," I glance at the torch with the idea of setting his body ablaze, remembering what I was told about fire stopping all regeneration. But, shaking my head, I look back at Brash. "..No. That's a fucking lie."

Swallowing the built up anger, I continue less shakily, "Rivera asked me if I despised you. While I definitely despise what you did, whatever the reasons,-" I stop, exhaling sharply, "-I don't despise you. I can't bring myself to, especially seeing you like this. I guess I'm just as pathetic as before. That's always been the truth, at least when the situation involved you. Either way, I suppose I have to deal with you before I can deal with Rivera."

His head twitches slightly, but that's the end of it. Clearing the room and unplugging the tubes must have helped return some feeling. 'What are you willing to do to achieve your goal?' and 'Will you forsake others in order to achieve true justice?' are incredibly important questions for this exact moment.

"What I'm about to do.. pales in comparison to what I've gone through when you did it. And to what's going to happen to Rivera. But I have to do it. I have to make it equal," I announce silently, clutching my dagger as forcefully as I can. And, moving it over his chest, I point it to where his heart should be, but isn't.

_He should suffer the same way I did. Regardless of Rivera's torture.. it needs to come from me. Just like it did from him. He deserves to pay. He deserves this... He does.. doesn't he?_

  
I breathe in.

I breathe out.  
  


And I don't move an inch. The blade shakes in the same rhythm as my hand. I groan defeatedly before retreating the dagger. "I.. I can't do it. I don't understand how you were able to. Even with you completely senseless, I can't bring myself to do it! It looks like I really **am** fucked in the head after all," I chuckle at my own inaptitude. The first time my expression doesn't only consist of frowns and shock, and it's in this messed up situation.

Angry with myself, I groan, "..Fuck it." Raising my body from the ground slightly, I move to his feet. Placing the dagger and the torch on the floor, I grip his ankles in my hands. Pushing, pulling, struggling with all my remaining strength, I cannot move his body. Too heavy for my muscles. Or I'm simply too exhausted. _Godsdamned Raze. I wish he could aid my efforts, but that's obviously not going to happen. He knew all this time who was inside._

After about a minute full of intense effort, I return to his side, standing over him with a dejected look. "Well.. I tried. Now who's got a fat ass, huh?" I jest. Quickly realising what's happening, where I am and what he did, seriousness returns. "..Even considering what you've done, you don't deserve Rivera's treatment. No living being does."

_After everything he did.. I still get so soft around him. I must change that._

Exhaling sharply, I return to a deep frown. "I dislike promises. They never lead anywhere good. But I'll leave you with this: I promise I'll return. I promise Rivera will die. And I **promise** we'll meet again, both conscious. I deserve to hear answers and I deserve to know the reasons," I exclaim, surprisingly resolute and determined in tone.

Bending over to pick up all of my belongings, I glance at Brash one last time. I hate seeing him in pain. My only consolation is the amount of pain I had to go through because of him. And with that thought, I exit the cell.

  
Raze meets me with crossed arms and a furious look. "Have you already forgotten what that barbarian did? How did he rob you of all reason without even saying a word? Are you so gullible as to believe his intentions were good? Because leading you towards torture stands great proof!" His irritation only grows stronger. Even his wings seem aggravated, tensing in unstoppable spasms.

Gripping the door to Brash's cell, I push it all the way until it hits the stone wall, opening it fully. To ensure the door doesn't close on its own, I take out all the bolts from the door's connection. Now it can be neither opened or closed without using bolts from somewhere else. Of course, that is fixable, but it adds some obstacle at least.

"I'll find the exact reasons out. From him," I growl, turning back to face Raze.

He nearly bursts out laughing, "You mean to **save** him? Oh my, you must have gone mad! He deserves all he's getting, and more. Surely, you are aware of that."

"Torture isn't a punishment. Torture is a hobby of monsters. One Rivera will pay for. Whatever Brash did.. he's not any better off in here than I was, even though he did her bidding. He looks more like an experiment than her ally. But, **as I said** , I'll discover the truth for myself once she's dead," I bark out with another, visibly aggressive frown.

Squinting at me while I respond, he seems to ease in tension. I suppose he realised my belief isn't blind, and that I don't simply think everything must have been a giant mistake. "..Very well, then. At least your observation skills haven't declined. I heard what you said - he truly is heartless, the same way you are."

Looking around the extending hallway, I ask, "Is anyone else here? Anyone we'd **both** be willing to rescue?"

Mockingly, he shakes his head in disagreement, "No, my dear. The only other thing we must do here is recover your belongings. Surprisingly, they were not burnt. I cannot say why they keep them. And not only yours, but of the dead subjects also." Without another word, he walks back in the direction we came from. Leaving the vicinity of Brash's cell, my stomach swirls for a moment.

  
Taking the turn instead of heading into my previous cell, we enter a different door. A weak, wooden door. Definitely not one guarding anything important - at least not for them. Once opened, a small, illuminated room filled with dozens of chests greets us. And not only chests, but also cabinets, tables and boxes.

_Right.. and I'm supposed to find my belongings how?_

"Don't fret, my sweet. I have already taken the liberty of finding your affects for you," he grins proudly, pointing to a nearby chest placed on top of a table. "Your armor, bag and its contents are inside, unharmed." This comes as a genuined surprise. I would have expected my things either destroyed or at least damaged in a way.

Opening the chest, I relax my frown when my armor pops out. _There you are. I hope you missed me as much as I missed you_. Taking all the pieces out, I prepare them next to the chest. Leggings first, then boots right after. Gods, their comfort on my feet... Right, next - chest, forearm bracers, shoulder pads and thigh bracers. Lastly, all the belts. Two for my chest piece and one for my leggings. Having put all of the parts on, my sense of security increases tenfold.

Next order of business: my bag and the things I had in it. Of course, many of the bag's contents are.. somewhat painful to look at. Additionally, there's also the ring Brash gave me. I contemplate what to do with the things he gifted me. To my surprise, they are numerous. Acknowledging this is probably not the best time to make a decision, I put everything in my bag, but leave the heavy book in here. I finished it and, as much as I appreciate its wisdom, it's simply too large. Either way, now that I am dressed again, I stuff the two daggers into my bracers and place the bag over a shoulder.

  
Seeing I am ready to leave, Raze extends his hand towards me, "Come, dear. I will transport us both to your heart's location. Without it, you cannot face the witch."

I begin reaching my hand to Raze's, but.. an idea springs up in my mind. One that should help me weaken Rivera without much effort, and maybe gain me an ally in the process. Pulling out my journal and writing supplies, I tear an empty page out and write something on it. "I'll be right back," I say without even looking at him, leaving the room.

Once I reach the hallway, I head towards my cell. This time willingly. When entered, I approach the table. I don't want the paper to be found instantly - all I need is for Rivera to find it and see me gone. Folding the paper, I stick it underneath some of the torture instruments. A paper reading 'thank you'. Knowing Rivera's obvious cunning, even though she exhibits it in animalistic ways, she should think I was freed by Ari instantly. She even said I 'wouldn't be able to seduce Xan'Ari' the way I look now. I suppose their mutual trust might be waning.

Returning back to the storage, back to Raze, I take his hand and say, "I'm ready." With a nod, he draws a symbol with his free hand. A crossed circle with a complicated pattern in the middle. And with a chant, "Mutare statum," we're engulfed in a blinding mist.

I've never been the target of a spell such as this one. As if the mist changed every atom, every particle around and inside us. Every beam of light and shadow replaced by nothingness. And before I know it, everything is back to where it was. The mist falls, revealing our new position.

  
Well, first things first - something flies towards me, knocking my body backwards, making me fall to the ground with a yelp. As if something punched me at the speed of light, right in my chest. Breathing heavily from shock, I manage to lift my head and look at the area of impact. A giant, crimson circle stains my armor in blood.

"What.. the hells.. happened?" I whimper out between deep breaths, slowly trying to calm down.

Raze chuckles, "That, my precious, was your heart! Organs don't enjoy being separated from their owners. And once you came close enough, it flew right back, passing through your armor and skin with ease. Demonic parts tend to do that," he smirks, tapping the amulet he wears with his fingers.

Shifting my gaze from him, I examine the area we're in. Almost resembling a room, it doesn't seem out of the ordinary. Of course, apart from the flesh-like red walls, windows into nothingness and items bearing symbols of witchery and demonic worship. The closest I can get to describing the place is in comparison to the plane Sorin showed me - Inferno.   
  


Watching Raze with unrelenting caution, I press my palms against the ground, lifting myself back up. "Right. What now, then?"

"Now," he extends his arm to me again, bidding me to take it, "we move to my lair."

I cringe, "Your lair? You're quite forward, aren't you?"

He smirks in mysterious sadness, "Not forward enough. Either way, that is the safest place for you. As I said, we have something in mind. It's obvious enacting your revenge is important to you. Mors sounded rather intrigued to train you through Inferno, which is where we are now. But I assure you, my lair is considerably more inviting. **And** it has all of your belongings from Orchid's house."

"Yeah, you said you moved my affects because 'I'd be living in your lair'. That doesn't sound very temporary to me," I wince, frowning only mildly now.

With a suspicious smile, he steps closer. Now holding his open palm right before me, he says deeply, "That will be up to you. You can always leave, of course. But before your decision, I'll give you your heart's desire. Anything you wish."

And my frown tenses again, "That won't be necessary, Raze. My heart needs nothing but some godsdamned peace." Lifting my hand reluctantly, I place it in his, "But I'll take you up on the offer of training with Mors."

A mellow, somewhat sad grin, "That must suffice for now, then. Ready to go, my precious?"

"I am not 'yours' anything. The only thing I am is ready to leave this place."

A chuckle, "Very well."

  
Another symbol drawn. Another chant. More mist. More impenetrable darkness. A different scene emerges as the mist falls. Still Inferno-like, but less threatening.

"Welcome to my home. Or, our home, hopefully," he whispers sweetly.

Jerking my hand from his, I look around, hovering palms over my weapons just in case. I'm in a cosy room. The cause of that might be the overwhelming amount of decorations. Orchid's decorations. Her paintings, cabinets, furniture, plants, tools. Everything. It's nearly the exact copy of the lobby of her house. Just.. with flesh-like walls and red aura surrounding the furnishing.

"How the hells.. did you manage to make it so similar?" I ask in barely-contained awe. This scene is jarringly alike to the real deal. As if a projection of it, painted onto the sick environment.

An amused, appreciative smirk. "Well, thank you for noticing my efforts. I simply transformed the lair into the desired shape and afterwards filled it with all the furniture. Nothing too complicated."

My amazement seems never-ending. Of course, I don't show it past slightly widened eyes. "Transformed the lair? What in the name of fuck is this place?"

He quickly sneers at my using that phrase. I suppose I.. learned it from Brash. _Ugh._ Brushing it off, he responds dispassionately, "Inferno. Anything can be done here, if you're powerful enough. Which brings me to..."

  
Stepping in the middle of the room we're in, he clutches the amulet and says, "Do as I do."

I follow by sheathing my weapons and clutching my amulet, the same way he is.

A chant: "Arcessentes Mors animae."

"Arcessentes Mors animae," I repeat.

And.. we stand there in silence, clutching our amulets. I don't mean to interrupt, interested in what will happen. After all, the chant included Mors's name. I wonder just what we're-

Flashes of light pour out of both amulets continuously. It's incredibly hot, forcing my hand to move away. Even then, the pouring doesn't stop. It keeps on flowing in a straight, wide line of rainbow. The beams from our amulets meet right in between us, forming a shape in their collision. A silhouette. A female figure.

  
"Animatis corpus," Raze says firmly.

"Animatis corpus," I repeat.

  
The light stops pouring. The figure remains, no longer made of light but of flesh and bones. An adult female body, covered in a robe. Most of her chest is hugged by her enormously long, gray hair. But not the old-age kind. She doesn't look over thirty, if even that. Her hands end with menacingly long and sharp nails.

The woman seems to breathe erratically, looking from me to Raze, then to her body, to her open palms, to the room and so on, enticed by her surroundings. Her expressions move from surprise, fear, joy to.. nothing. As she reaches a blank look, her entire body calms down as well. A deathly quiet.

"Welcome. I hope you'll find this place to your liking," Raze exclaims and... bows.

"Don't waste breath, demonspawn. I have no need for such gestures," a twisted voice says, coming from the mouth of the woman. I'm sure this must be Mors, but.. I never imagined her like this. It's rather difficult, seeing as this woman looks surprisingly ordinary, apart from the hair colour.

She turns to the side with a stern look. Only now do I see her burning golden eyes as they stare right into mine, while she walks towards me confidently. "Your encounter with the witch proved challenging, more than I had expected. For that, I apologise. You found a way to reach your release by informing your ally wisely. For that, I commend you. But you let your feelings cloud your judgement, and for that, I pity you."

Involuntarily crossing my arms, I frown still and growl, "'Let feelings cloud my judgement'? I simply spared him to gain information later. And nobody deserves the cruelty the witch serves. If anyone should decide his fate, it should be me, seeing as he held mine in his hands."

  
For a moment, she moves her entire head to the side and looks into the distance. No words, but she inaudibly mouths something, as if speaking to someone. And she's back, facing me again, "You acted well. Of course, it's clear to us your sparing him was not purely for information. You and the warrior.. Your future is difficult to predict. Different possibilities. Different realities. Which one do you hope to reach?"

_..What kind of a question is that? What do I wish could happen?_

Breaking my frown, I turn the corners of my lips downwards. "..I don't know. Is there a reality in which all that occurred becomes perfectly understandable, logical and forgiveable?" I ask mockingly, but I suppose that is what I wish to be possible.

"Yes."

Staggered, I stutter, "Wh-what? That's.. impossible."

"I cannot say what your opinion will be once the truth is revealed. That is up to you to decide."

Uncertain of what to think, I change the subject, "So, what happens now?"

Mors turns away from me and examines every little thing inside the room. From the paintings to the wall and ground textures. "Now; you rest. I shall prepare for our training. Once you wake, we begin. No time to waste, you have a lot to learn." With hands sliding over various surfaces, she seems genuinely intrigued by everything.

  
Today has been one of the most thought-provoking days I've ever had. So much happened. Meeting Raze for the first time, finding out about my heart's removal, Brash being tortured only a few rooms from me, him being a red, heartless demonheart and Rivera's subject, Raze teleporting me to Inferno, my heart returning, summoning and finally meeting the real Mors. A long, long day, to say the least.

"Raze, do you have a bed here?"

With a mischievous smile, he raises his eyebrows. "Now who's being forward?" After seeing my murderous glare, he laughs and explains, "As I said, I moved **all** the necessities here. Your bed awaits in here, in your room." And he points to a door next to him. Throwing him one last glare, I enter the room.

_  
What the fuck._

It looks **exactly** like my room at Orchid's. This is mental. Even the windows. Of course, they show nothing, but he recreated the room to the last detail. I suppose Raze meant to accustom me to Inferno. He missed the part where this looks absolutely fucking mad. _But.. okay, it's better than sleeping in some dark cave, I admit._

Approaching the bed, I investigate it for a moment. Touching the covers, the pillow, squeezing the mattress... I can't resist. Without any remaining hesitation, I fall right onto it. _This.. is the best thing.. ever._ So soft and warm, it instantly engulfs my whole being.

_I am taking a deserved nap._

I'll give my all tomorrow, and the consequent days also. I'll train as hard as I can with Mors. She's the most powerful being I've come to contact after Sorin. It definitely feels unsettling. The thought of training with a god-like being. I suppose we'll see what happens.

  
Closing my eyes, I think about Brash. So absolutely helpless, in obvious pain and under continuous torture from the toxins and the poisonous mist. However spite-worthy his actions were, this isn't right. Knowing he's in pain right now, probably having to endure Rivera's full wrath.. I shake that thought, lest it destroys me and I'm not able to help him.

For now, I am fading, and not in the way I did repeatedly for the past few days. The need for a true rest overwhelms me.

And as my being loses strength, I lose consciousness.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought of adding images this time around. Tell me if it feels intrusive! It's just an experiment lol. I don't plan on doing it everywhere!
> 
> Sources: [Bright] Katarina by Sabah H [Source](https://photo.99px.ru/photos/309274/)  
> [Mors] Manon by cocotingo, [Tumblr](https://thelittleloverofbooks.tumblr.com/post/153560675303/cocotingo-manon-and-asterin-blackbeak-the-wing)


	19. Total Assemble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A recollection of two days spent in Inferno. Days full of training and finding out circumstances behind Brash's affliction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in past tense to shorten the chapter. Originally, this was supposed to be 2-3 chapters lol. Too long, so I shrunk it into one instead, keeping all the necessary information.

_Tomorrow, I'm leaving for the ruin. Tomorrow, Rivera dies._

***

I spent the entire first day in Inferno training with Mors. At first, she assessed my physical ability. That seemed to be the most disappointing one, together with my endurance. She was impressed by my speed and quick wit, at least when it came to combat. Mors kept relentlessly reminding me of my ignorance with people, most of all with Brash. And she was right in that aspect. Betrayal laid written everywhere - in his expressions, speech, behaviour but also in my own dreams. I had ignored it all and only saw what I wished for.

"If you are always watching your back, how can you expect to see the enemy right in front of you?" she told me, raising a valid point. Either way, she didn't elaborate on what exactly the reasons for his betrayal were, even though she obviously knew. She insisted on having me find out on my own. Clearly it was important I made my decision about him without her intrusion.

Raze watched us for a while before departing to where I had sent him. A plan was set in motion.  


When we summoned Mors, I thought she was freed from Oblivion. But after inquiring, she told me in detail: "The body you see is merely a shell, reflecting my past, mortal appearance. My powers are considerably increased compared to the dream state, but still not the same as outside of Oblivion, which only Sorin may release me out of. The option of latching onto a soulless body was always present, but only possible through Inferno."

She continued explaining; Inferno and Oblivion seem to exist very closely, she called them 'sister planes'. The creation of her temporary body is impossible in our world because of the absurd distance our planes are separated by. Apparently, Inferno wasn't destroyed by the rupture. Parts of it were torn off; parts presently called Hells. The remnants of Inferno are pocket lairs, ones like this one. Finding them is supposed to be extremely difficult, truly unthinkable. But once found, they offer impenetrable shelter and protection.

Apart from the lectures and assessments, Mors also pushed my limits during control training. As much as I'd love to try my hand at different abilities, she insisted on perfecting my control and object manipulation. Supposedly, that should ensure a higher level of proficiency. When I displayed my inability to move objects larger than my palm, she expressed disappointment. But not at my inability, rather at my technique.

"The way you execute your attempts is inefficient. You are willing the object to move, when what you must understand is that you, in fact, are not moving the object itself. You are bending the space around it, causing it to move as a side-effect," Mors explained. "Do not think about it. Do it."

And that is how I finally learned to bring the dagger into my palm. After achieving this, she showed me just how I may use control with weapons. I watched her dance with swords floating around her. A dance of death. Following her every motion, they created a fatal aura of steel. Acting as protection and threat at the same time.

"This is what you must strive to learn. And not only with weapons. Once conquered, you may do this with any object, even elements. The most important part is not the knowledge itself, though. It is **the will**. It is **the idea**. When you realise just how potent your control may be, all of your instincts will come alive."

  
And so passed my first training with the Inquisitor of Death. The menace and fear she strikes are astounding and inspiring. She was surprisingly careful while teaching. And that isn't because of a lack of power. When we finished for the day, she summoned entire rows of weapons, training dummies and armors from thin air. I watched her for a while as she commanded the weapons from distance to become ablaze, annihilate the dummies, slice them to pieces and pierce the armors.

As I observed, Raze returned from where I had sent him. And he brought the guest I waited for. The unconscious young witch, Ari. Her head suffered a bloody wound, her hands and legs were tied. Rivera's courtesy, I'm sure. Raze left Ari in one of the unoccupied rooms, locking the door in case she tried to run. I intended to question her the following day.

And with that, I entered my room. Using available tools, I was finally able to fix my chest belts, returning the armor to its former glory. This of course took a while, and feeling extremely tired, I plopped down onto the bed, longing for its embrace. 

***

The second day passed by much slower than the first. It was also infinitely more interesting. Beginning with the obligatory flirtatious and condescending remarks from Raze, he finally gave me Rivera's journal. What I read inside redefined the words 'intriguing' and 'shocking'. 

I began reading from the very start. The first entry concerned patient #1 and wasn't written by Rivera. Instead, someone named 'Alonda of Scarcewall' wrote it. The date is rather old. The very first subject became afflicted white unwillingly, forced to eat demonic flesh. Alonda experimented on him endlessly. Taking out his organs, burning his body, dipping it in acid, until destroying it whole - only leaving his still-beating heart.

Another entry; patient #2, written by Alonda a short while after the death of patient #1. Afflicted white willingly this time, the subject ate the heart of the previous patient. After turning fully, they both agreed on attempting a heart-removal surgery. The same one done on me. And it was a success. The subject survived and the heart stayed in Inferno, in something called an 'Infernal Garden'. No coordinates were written down. Well, nothing else was written down. The entry ended abruptly without a conclusion or any following information.

  
Third entry, patient #3, now written by Rivera. Something must have occurred between this and the last entry. Rivera's style of writing notes is considerably more chaotic and personal than Alonda's.

_'Patient #3 - Male, around thirty, willing, afflicted red under my supervision. His previous self-destructive tendencies vanished after affliction. Physically healthy both before and after as well. Having conducted a few tests, I determined his healing ability functional. Following his nature, the ability gained favours strength. Progressing with the plan, I have removed his heart with the help of Xan'Ari and moved it to a secure garden. Since he appeared to recover well, the best course of action was to send him out and watch his adaptation. Considering his extremely dangerous lifestyle, I assumed this to be the best way of gaining more information.'_

Connecting the dots, I was certain this entry concerned Brash. And since it said 'around thirty', this must have happened before his knighting. He told me that was seven years ago. And because he's about twice my age, this fits perfectly. I continued reading the entry warily.

_'Additional: Patient #3 returned a few months after release, this time unwilling. It seems the realisation that I hold his life in my hands hit him a tad late. He demanded his freedom back. Men! He broke rather easily when I showed him how simple it was for me to teleport to his heart and kill him. Now he does all I command. It is fortunate I have such a puppet in my grasp. With him acting a part of the Scarcewall council, incredible opportunities open.'_

It was obvious that Brash had gone through a lot with Rivera. I felt sorry for him, reading the recollection of events. The journal mentioned self-destructive tendencies before affliction, and that he came to Rivera willingly. These two things stood out the most, and I intended to question Ari about them once she awoke.

  
Before that, I needed to finish the journal. Only one more entry remained. My entry.

_'Patient #4 - Female, around twenty, unwilling, afflicted red outside my supervision. Speed ability, physically healthy, emotionally damaged. This female used to belong to Orchid. Finally, I was able to get my hands on her after months of waiting. She was sent on her way with #3 and some other men. Those were nowhere to be found. I can only assume #3 killed them, like the moron he is, robbing me of new play-things.'_

Most parts of the entry shocked me, raising another load of questions I needed to remember. Rivera wrote that she waited months for me. Possibly even before my affliction.

_'Additional: #3 returned during the arrival of #4, unwilling. He appeared reluctant when given a simple order of killing #4, only proving my theory of their mutual attachment. This revelation sparked a wave of ideas for experiments. Taking him by surprise, Xan'Ari and I returned him back to his cell. Both #3 and #4 responded similarly to my mind toxins, which I found rather intriguing, considering what transpired before and during the female's capture. #4 responded better to physical tests than #3, which was even more awe-inspiring. And here I thought physique was all that counted! It's possible the trauma of #3's attachment translated into increased physical torment. This theory needs to be tested further - increase toxins, follow by more physical tests with heightened severity.'_

Having finished all of the entries, I found a new depth of perseverance. All this information gave me the impression that Brash had no choice other than bring me to Rivera. I couldn't say what the reasons were, but I was sure I would find out from Ari. And that is exactly where I headed next.

  
Finding her awake and somewhat scared, she thanked me for the rescue while hiding most of her body under a bedsheet. Ari described that after my inexplicable escape Rivera turned on her immediately - stunned and imprisoned her. The next thing she remembered was a demonspawn saving her from inevitable torture. While she spoke, she continuously bowed her head at Raze who was also in the room, enjoying all of this affection. A demon worshipper, clearly. 

Seeing her in a good mood, I began my questions, asking them seriously: "Why did Rivera want me? Her journal said she waited for months."

Reluctant at first, Ari spilled out everything, staring at Raze in amazement. "We knew of Orchid's intentions from the very beginning. Rivera always hated her, which made her want to steal you away. The plan was to take you away immediately after affliction."

  
I instantly barked out a different question, one I was interested in hearing answered over all others, "Do you know of the circumstances behind Brash's affliction?"

Ari noded sadly and explained, "Rivera had me stalk him for weeks. He was the perfect candidate - powerful and mentally stable. We were waiting for an opportunity for capture. One night.. something happened. We found him drunk out of his mind in a brothel, nearly forgetting his name. So we dragged him away."

When she described that situation, familiarity hit me. I have heard that story before. The same circumstances, the same place, the same characters. Sybil had told me of this. Sybil had said this happened in her brothel in Scarcewall, meaning Ari was most likely telling the truth. Was it really Brash?

"Telling him what we meant to do, he carelessly agreed. He agreed to anything we said. All the while telling us that the woman he loved left him for an old, rich man. The entire road to the ruins he spent talking about it. That the man was going to mistreat her. That she would get hurt. He also talked about her curly, brown hair and how much he adored it. I've never seen him as demolished. At least, until your arrival," she said, voice slowly growing sadder and quieter.

  
My heart sank listening to her words. A picture of his past started painting itself in my mind. And I didn't enjoy its message. Unfortunately, what she had said matched the journal entries and my knowledge so far. I asked another question, making sure to sound as dispassionate as I could, "What about after the affliction? What happened?"

Ari seemed confused by my continuous interest, but answered anyway, "After his transformation, the removal of his heart and his release, he regained emotional stability. Rather, he seemed to not care at all. It must have partially been because of the red affliction, but I suppose being heartless for so long didn't help. He seemed to find pleasure in murdering and raping. At least in the first few months. Returning to us afterwards, he demanded his heart back. Of course Rivera would never allow that and threatened him into submission." Her tone turned to one of shame and guilt at the end.

And once again, she told the truth. It sounded like Brash was forced into doing many things, bringing me to Rivera being one of them. As unfortunate as his situation sounded, intentions still mattered. The only answers I cared about at that point had to come from him directly. I wanted to know what he would say; if he'd lie or not. And so I turned to leave the room and train further.

  
Ari stopped me with a question, "..You love him, don't you?"

Upset by the suggestion, Raze stormed out of the room, not wanting to hear any details. I, on the other hand, was stupefied. Interested in what Ari had to say, I shook all emotion off. Turning to face her again, I stepped closer and answered with a vexed frown, "I can't love someone who hurt me the way he did. I **do** care, though. About ending his torture and judging him on my own."

Ari nodded but mirrored my frown with her own, weaker in harshness. "It must be difficult to love a man like him, even if none of what happened took place," she insisted on her idea of my feelings. "He will not hurt you again, though. I saw it in him when I visited his cell. The unbearable guilt and sor-"

I interrupted her angrily from continuing, "Don't. Don't say that. Don't give me words that can turn to poison in an instant. I'll know the reality of things when I question him."

She apologetically bowed her head again. Ari appeared rather affected by assertion and confidence from others. No wonder Rivera had such a hold on her. "..What happens to me now? Will you.. kill me for torturing you?"

Throwing her a somewhat confused frown, I calmly assured her, "I'm not Rivera. You only acted on commands. You had every opportunity to hurt me without her present, but you chose to apply herbs to numb my pain. As far as I'm concerned, I don't care for your death. Of course, you may not leave the lair until Rivera has been dealt with."

Astounded by the logic of my answer, and perhaps the way it was delivered, she nodded and hid her head below the sheet as well. Not wasting any more time in this room, I left and headed to Mors, impatient to train further.

  
Already prepared for my arrival, she instantly began explaining what she meant to teach me that day. The subject seemed to be trap detection using control of air itself. "Worry not. You realised how to operate control quickly. It is only a matter of will and imagination now, both of which I know you possess."

She showed me what she had in mind. With a palm pressing into the air in front of me, I pushed through it using my mind. I saw no effect, but I could feel it in my mind. Mors clarified that this motion will reveal magical strings hanging in the air. Practising on a few traps she prepared for me, I learned how to find them after nearly an hour.

Satisfied by my progress, she announced, "Demonheart, you learn more quickly than I anticipated. Meaning you need no more training to defeat the witch. Your current skills are sufficient accompanied by this.." Mors took my hand and put a ring on my ring-finger. The ring I recieved from Brash. 

"I activated and blessed it. **Only you** may remove it. When worn, the ring will considerably reduce damage inflicted by spells. It is necessary to achieve success."

I stared at the ring for a while, unable to stop thinking about its history. When I managed to tear my gaze away, I asked Mors, "You think I'm ready, then? Truly ready?"

"Yes. That does not mean you cannot lose. We simply believe you capable of using your wits and cunning to figure out a solution. Not only for the witch, but also for dealing with the warrior. Whatever your decision, we believe you able. Me most of us three, surprisingly," she announced with genuine wonder.

With a determined nod, I said, "Tomorrow, then."

"Indeed. But before embarking on your quest for revenge, dig two graves side by side. One for you and one for the victim, for revenge is never a straight line. It is a forest. And like a forest it is easy to lose your way, to get lost, to forget where you came in."

I bowed down, even if she had made it clear she cared not for displays such as this one. "I'm grateful. Without you I would have been doomed multiple times," I said, returning back from the bow. 

As always, a deadpan look met mine. "Do not worry yourself with such thoughts. Focus on what must be done. Honour me by staying vigilant and thoughtful," she exclaimed resolutely.

  
And with a final nod, I moved towards my room, intending on resting as fully as possible. Unfortunately, my room was not empty. Raze sat on a chair, waiting for me, perturbed by what Ari had asked.

"Tell me you don't honestly care for him still?" he barked out in ridicule. There wasn't much to tell him. I merely repeated what I told Ari and Mors before. "I can only make my decision once I know all the facts. I care enough to find out. So far it seems both our fates were out of our hands. That doesn't mean I have forgiven or forgotten."

Mulling my words over in his head, he responded, "Very well. I shall help you tomorrow, then. Even through my aversion for him, your contentment is all that matters to me."

Surprised at his willingness, I raised my eyebrows slightly. "..Thank you, Raze."

Shooting me a weak smile, he stood up from the chair and left the room with: "Always."

Alone again, I fell down onto the bed. Each time its comfort embraced me, sadness followed. Silent tears shed in secret. Enjoying the last moments of calm and peace, I entered another empty slumber.

***

And that is how my preparations went during the last two days. I can only pray it's enough. Well, I won't pray. I recieved a lot of knowledge and information, but everything seems more complex than I imagined. 

I wonder just how many people were involved in my death. I wonder just how many sent me to my end knowingly. And I wonder what the reason for this all really was. Somehow I doubt I was taken here purely because of Rivera's command. There must be more to it. I'm sure Brash will know.

_Time to ask nears._

_One more night and I'll achieve what I desperately require._   
  



	20. Here I Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontation between Bright and Rivera.

Still, I dream of nothing. My nights are inhabited by emptiness of mind. As if all hope waited until the truth's revelation. Until uncertainty vanishes. Until just desserts are served. Either way, I get up from my comfy bed one last time. Fixing my hair into a sturdy, thick braid to not be bothered by loose hair, I grab and sheathe my weapons. Knowing I will return once finished, I leave all of my other belongings here and exit the chamber.

_Mors explained I will be teleported to the ruins using a portal of her making. It will remain in the same position, meaning I may use it to come back afterwards._

"Raze, get ready. We are leaving," I announce adamantly.

Raze is sitting on a chair located on the other side of the room, head hung low, staring at the ground absent-mindedly. Even his tail and wings appear languid. Something must be weighing heavy on his mind. It takes him a few moments to respond, moments I spend closing the distance between us. Once I'm a few feet away, he raises his head and stops me in my tracks with a firm, determined glare. "I will not be joining you." 

Lightly cringing in confusion, I ask, "Why not? What changed? You promised help last night."

With a sharp exhalation, he begins, "You must excuse my temporary ignorance, then. Spending the night in thought of what I offered, I realised its complete mindlessness," Raze explains calmly, perhaps somewhat ridiculingly. Getting up from the chair, his eyes meet mine at a slightly elevated angle. "If you desire my help, you must choose."

I squint, "Choose.. what?"

Leaning slightly forward, he glares at me seriously and elaborates, "Either you go alone, attempt to save the brute and kill Rivera by yourself, or.." His seriousness transforms into tension, "I join you, ensure your vengeance, but you must consume the red's heart once we find it."

  
My eyes spring open at the suggestion.

Pensive, dreadful silence.

  
"..Choose. Either me, who hasn't given you a reason for doubt, or the brute, who betrayed your trust intentionally and purposely," he growls, demanding an answer. _How dare he make me choose between those two options?_

Either certain justice or doing what's right. Eating Brash's heart or taking a massive risk on my own. I suppose the answer is rather clear. I am **not** eating his heart. Or anybody else's for that matter. With a hint of disgust, I snarl, "That must mean I'm going alone, then. Devouring hearts of others' isn't among my hobbies, regardless of who the people are." Crossing arms, I also underline my point by grimacing relentlessly. "You must have mistaken me for the witch if you believed otherwise." 

Now nearly furious, his wings and tail twitch as he grits his teeth, "Then you will die for your absolute irrationality and ignorance! Enjoy returning to torment. I will not bother saving you this time." Clutching his fists as he sulks, Raze swiftly leaves the room, heading into one of his own.

As understandable as his being upset with me is, there is no way I'm eating someone's heart. Even the thought of it makes me sick to my stomach, sending disgusting sensations through my tongue. I try to shake them off, returning my mind to what's important. Shrugging aggressively, I turn my body around completely, moving in the direction of another chamber - one Mors spends her time in; meditating, conjuring, planning, resting.

Each time I see her, she's touching something, feeling different surfaces, smelling vials. Almost like an inexperienced, innocent child. I suppose being locked in a world with no substance has this effect. I can't even begin to imagine what she's gone through. Either way, she never lets us see what's going on in her - or all of their - head, apart from the unrivaled curiosity.

Entering the room, I observe Mors sitting on a bed, glaring into a mirror she conjured. Its reflection is constantly changing, as if showing images of everything but Mors's reflection. Trees, plants, people, castles.. I think I even saw Feline's courtyard. _Perhaps she's trying to learn more about our world? After all, her banishment came before the necessity of using humans as acolytes._

Clearing my throat, I interrupt her as politely as I can, "I'm sorry, Mors, but.. I believe it is time for me to go."  
  


Her attention remains on the mirror. I do notice a slight downward curve in her lips. Extending her arm towards the reflection, she stops it on an image of a forest. "What significance does this place bear?"

With raised eyebrows, I approach and examine the projection she's talking about. A deep, golden forest. Possibly **the** Golden Forest. A few trees lay damaged on the ground. The center of the image is dominated by a massive, old tree. And in front of it, a sword sticks out of the ground. A greatsword.

My eyes and mouth express sudden shock as my breathing becomes audible. _Forest next to the military camp. I had.. nearly forgotten about it. About all that happened._ A gut-wrenching feeling spreads through my stomach. I tense it ruthlessly. Forcing a lump in my throat down, I answer as calmly as possible, "That's.. an area beside the camp I trained in. It's not significant. Now, can you please show me the portal so I-"

She's having none of it and cuts me off sharply, tone bitter. "Do not lie, demonheart. I watched your dreams, even before our first contact. I recall you entering this place instinctively right after your resistance to Sorin. Now, tell me of its significance."

_Fucking hells..._

Once she has an idea in her head, she doesn't let it go. I suppose that's one of her qualities Sorin despised so vigorously. Either way, hiding the truth will only hurt me in the process. "Alright, uh.. It's the place me and Brash kissed first. And confessed our affection. It nearly seems like it happened in another life, considering what followed. None of it matters anymore, though. The forest, the tree, the confessions. None of it," I announce with a progressively deeper tone.

The moment I mention the place no longer bearing meaning, she jerks her head to face me instantly. After I'm done, she speaks sternly and seriously. "Quite the opposite," her voice trails off as she stands up and approaches me closely. "Before I summon the portal, it is imperial you remember all I have taught you, combined with information about your foe."

I nod and summarise what I know, "Raze said Rivera laid traps throughout the ruins. Once I'm there, I will keep vigilant and use control to find the traps and avoid them."

"Yes. Next?"

Inhaling deeply, I think of the other obstacles. "Rivera is protected from me by a barrier. Raze said it works against all her subjects, which I assume she activates using our blood or something along the lines. But.. I'm not quite sure how the barrier works. I suppose I will find out the hard way."

She gives me a single, heavy nod, maintaining a deadpan expression. "Indeed. Anything else?"

Glancing to the side, I focus on the mirror while thinking of other hurdles. "Apart from having to respect her powerful spells, which should have a reduced effect thanks to you,.." I lift my hand temporarily, looking at the ring Mors enchanted, "..I can't think of anything else. It will be a difficult task, but I believe I have the element of surprise. Especially because she thinks me a red - she won't expect any magic from me."

And another heavy nod. "Your observations and wits will come in crucial. More so than your speed," Mors exclaims rather resolutely. Without hesitation and with a look of subtle concern, she raises her left arm, swiftly moving her thumb along the scar over my right eye. The proximity of her long nails to my eye unsettles me more than the situation itself, and I react by stepping away from her instantly.

_Gods, she's very interested in touching, isn't she?_

With a semi-wide-eyed look, I offer a mild, polite smile, "The.. portal?"

Throwing her head to the side, focusing her gaze on a single spot, she mouths off inaudible words. I can only assume she's conversing with the other two souls. Moments later, her face meets mine again, back to a deadpan expression. "We have summoned it presently. It stands ready in the main chamber. Upon entrance, you will find yourself in your cell. Enter the warrior's cell and find the witch there. Cast your strike then, and cast it wisely."

Nodding off to every word she says, I thank her for the guidance and bow my head down abruptly. Almost as if she's lost interest in the conversation, she returns back to sitting on the bed and watching the mirror's alternating reflection.

_Right. Whatever. Time to go._

Returning to the main room, a giant structure greets me. A circular, sort of egg-like archway filled with thick, red mist. The same mist that surrounded me and Raze when he transported us both. This must be the portal. The portal to the ruins. _It's really happening. It's really here. I only need to pass through it to begin my quest for revenge_. The sight sounds dull horror through my body. Horror, fear and worry. But there is no time for a breakdown. It is time to act. I will let nothing stop my pursuit of discovery and vengeance.  
  


I breathe in.

_Let's get this over with._

I breathe out and.. I step in through the portal.

  
The mist engulfs my entire body carefully at first, then throws me from one spot to another, as if I were a ragdoll. This series of motions doesn't last very long, thankfully. Without a warning, I am pushed out of the mist, falling onto cold, stone ground. A welcoming by an unmistakeable aura - my previous torture chamber. 

_What.. a.. ride. Fuck._

Having landed on my stomach and face, the coarse surface of the floor scraped my skin mildly. I can only pray my arrival wasn't as noisy as it felt. _No time to waste._ Blowing a few loose hairs away from my eyes, I push my palms against the ground and rise up quietly, or as close to it as I can accomplish. Checking my limbs, body, weapons and armor, everything seems to be in order and unbroken. My attention is now pointed towards the room.

The portal is floating right at the center of it, a few feet behind the mirror, which appears to have suffered quite the wrath. It's split into three pieces; two lay on the floor, as if sliced off. The table that previously endured the torturous instruments has also been broken into variously large parts, and so have the tools. Most of the room's 'furnishings and decorations' look as though someone tried to disintegrate them. That someone must have been Rivera.

_I suppose she's rather upset. Good. Aggravated people make the most mistakes._

Whatever scene is unfolding before me, I realise I should be terrified. Not only witnessing the extent of her fury, but also knowing just how big of an obstacle she presents. I understand I should be freezing in apprehension and fright, the same way I was when meeting Brash and Jarlan with Flora in the clearing. That's what I should be doing, but am not. Somehow, I am fully focused. I'm calm and steady, unshaken.

Lowering myself by bending in the knees slightly, I approach the door in noiseless steps. Grasping its handle and pressing down gradually, the door opens. In an incredibly careful and slow pace, I pull the handle towards myself, revealing the nearly fully dark hallway. To prevent the door from slamming into the frame or the wall behind it, once I step into the hall completely, I close it in the same fashion it was opened in.

Similar fate to the cell's befell the hallway. From the previously fully lit corridors, they're now almost pitch black. Most torches lay on the ground, as if thrown or torn off the walls. Only a handful remain hanging, offering a vague idea of the dangers that await my approach. I presume my escape and Ari's 'betrayal', together with her following disappearance, accrued a level of uncontainable and avid ferocity. How very unbecoming of a wretch one as composed as Rivera. I thought it inconcievable to witness her losing restraint. That makes her even more dangerous, yet also provides an exploitable weakness.  
  


_Traps. Keep them in mind._

  
Unsheathing my dagger and clutching it readily in my right hand, I raise the other before me, pressing its palm into the air, as if to push it aside from my path. This motion returns ripples of information, revealing magical strings just like Mors taught me. I find none. Of course, I didn't expect to find many obstacles here; a somewhat secure and definitely deep layer of the ruins. After reaching this revelation, I retreat my left hand and instead clutch it around the dirk. Fully armed now, cautious and silent steps guide me forward in the direction of Brash's cell.

 _Mors indicated Rivera will be inside. Hopefully she isn't doing.. what I think she is._ I sense anxiety building up, imagining what cruelty Brash may have gone through while I was gone. _Fuck. No, it's alright. Just stay calm. If you lose it now, you won't be able to kill her or help him._

Once I'm near the first lit torch, I grasp it together with the dirk in my left hand. Having a means of illumination seems substantially more important than raising proper defense. After all, I doubt my confrontation with Rivera will involve melee combat.

Slowly swinging the torch in different directions, I examine the carnage that came upon the walls and the floor. It's clear not only torches and select furniture paid the price of her wrath. Some walls have differently sized cavities added to their names, together with sumbols of some kind. Symbols drawn in.. _Blood. Fucking hells, I hope it's only some poor animal's._ Most of the symbols remain unreadable to me, but some are quite clear. 'Shatter', 'Mind' and 'Break'. _Just what do these-_

  
My devout investigation and pondering is interrupted by a sharp, desperate shriek, one coming from further down the hallway. From the direction I was heading to. Tension rises and compresses my insides.

In determined and not-so-silent steps, I progress through the corridor. 

_Two more doors and I'm there._

Another painful shriek spattered with agony. I can hear my heart beating inside my mind. It's challenging to keep calm, but I try my hardest. If I lose focus, if I drop guard, everything and everyone will be doomed.

_One more door and I'm there._

A despairing cry. My steps grow in speed. There is no time. I won't let her torment him any longer. Knowing all that she's done to Brash throughout the years, all that she's done to me also, it fills me with a potent variety of emotions.

_Here I come._

The door stands before me; bolts have been returned, seeing as it's closed completely. _Alright.. I have to stay calm and take her by surprise. Perhaps the barrier only works if she knows I'm coming? Let's hope so. And let's hope I'm fast enough._

  
I breathe in.

Resting a foot on the wall, I push into it with my whole body as I open the door, ensuring the highest speed possible. 

It screeches violently.

_Fuck._

Not wasting time trying to open it wholly, I slide in.

Throwing the torch into the opposite corner, attempting to reveal as much through the dark room as possible, I lunge at the first thing I see.

But..   
It's not Rivera.  
Not even Brash.  
It's not a person at all.   
Only a wooden cross.

The entire room appears deserted. The source of the cries is nowhere to be seen.

_What the- She's not here. Nobody is. Mors was wro-_

  
"At last! I was wondering when you were going to return!" comes from behind me. An old and raspy voice. Cruel tone. Vile intentions. Rivera.

Swiftly, I turn around and lunge instantly without hesitation or even a target, completely relying on the direction I heard the voice come from. I notice her standing in front of the door, grinning viciously, only when my dagger reaches her vicinity. That's as far as she allows. 

As if an invisible hand held my arm in place, I cannot move it any closer. My dagger is nearly touching her, but I can't command my arms into movement. The barrier. It stops all efforts, not that I offer any more - I am petrified by a spell Rivera looks to be casting.

Her grin turns from viciousness into madness and anger in a flash. "You.. repulsive pest," she growls with a piercing glare. "I knew you would crawl back. I can't say how you passed all of my traps, but I suppose the treacherous whore taught you." Rivera's grin flares up into a disgusted but watchful grimace, "You will regret all of your offences, I promise you that."

I struggle, push, pull and kick but nobody would ever be able to tell. None of my motions are exhibited. I remain standing fully stunned, robbed of liberty. 

_I failed. I failed, I failed, I failed. And now, she'll kill me._

"Dormitabis!" Rivera shouts a spell I've heard her use before, casting it with her free hand.

And I fall unconscious right then.

***

"Ultimately, we all die in the end. Sadly, we cannot choose when. What we can decide is how we meet that end. Would you rather fall for something you believe, or fall in place of someone you care for? The possession of such choice sets us free from the chains of destiny."

***

I am gradually coming to from the senselessness bestowed upon me. My fingers assure me of that as they collide with a foreign cold surface. At first, the reality of what had occurred avoids me. I nearly think myself still in Inferno, only now waking up. That idea breaks as quickly as it appears. A voice ensures that.

"Wakey-wakey, sleepy head," I hear Rivera's voice sound in an ominous echo.

The moment I realise whose voice it is, I force my eyes open and instantly push myself off the floor into a crouch. Reaching for my sheathed weapons, a new discovery strikes me. No weapons. No bracers. No armor of any kind. I've been redressed during my unconsciousness. 

Instead of the leather armor, a very revealing white dress envelops my skin. My arms and legs are not covered at all, and so aren't the sides of my torso. Only my neck, select parts of my cleavage and the middle of my stomach are hidden behind a lacey, smooth, white silk, which extends around hips and then between legs with a drape, long and wide enough to cover my privates. Aside from this distressing dress, there is a white cloak on my back and, protecting my legs, I find white leather boots rising up to my knees, elevating me on a heel. A few additional adornments on my wrists complete the picture. A brothel bride.

 _What the fuck. What a mad, perverse hag._ She must have done it on her own, as well. The thought of her hands on my exposed body infuriates me to no end. The only items I recognise are my amulet and ring. Not even she is powerful enough to remove those, I suppose.

Done investigating the new set of clothes Rivera besmirched me with, I quickly inspect my surroundings. Locked in a cage big enough to stand in, I'm kept from the openness of a massive round room. Brightly lit by fire braziers. Stone floor. Invisible ceiling, perhaps endless. A barrier extends through the middle of the area. A figure stands behind it, mildly distorted. The same figure whose voice woke me.

  
_She's watching me like I'm some animal. Caught prey. Waiting to witness my dread and fear. Well, I'm not giving you the pleasure anymore, witch._ Remembering how easy triggering the Serpents was, making them underestimate me when they believed themselves in complete control, I decide to apply the same strategy. After all, Rivera is already weakened from the loss of Ari and my role in it.

_Time to bring my red act back, this time even more mad._

Confidently standing up from the wary crouch, I lean on the bars to my right, staring Rivera down with an amused grin. "You look rather menacing behind all that protection. Afraid I'll make you fall in love with me, just like I did with your little bitch?" I taunt her in a mocking tone to hopefully cause a reaction of any kind. I should be protected from painful spells by the ring, at least to some degree. Clearly it doesn't work on control spells such as stuns or slumbers, though.

"You even dressed me up all nice and sweet!" I run a hand over myself for a moment. "And no undergarments? Want better access to my fucking cunt or what?" I follow with a manic laugh, bringing my head all the way to my back to underline the simulated ridicule. _At least I spent enough time around Scarcewallers to learn their mannerisms. That doesn't mean talking like them comes naturally to me. I'm still revolted, but that hardly matters in a situation like this._

When I return my head and look at her, I spot a clearly furious grimace. Even her arms are stationed at the sides, betraying whatever false threat she tries to retaliate with. "I see your short vacation from my care brought your true nature back," she hisses. "Don't you worry. I'll teach you respect and make you behave again."

Throwing myself at the bars that stand between me and Rivera, I grip them in my hands and almost seductively moan, "Oh, make me behave! I've been a very naughty girl. And from what I've learnt of Ari's obedience at **any and all** commands, I know you'll show me a good time."

To complete the scene, I shoot her a wink. _This is the weirdest shit I've ever done. Fucking hells. Hopefully it bears fruit._ Rivera stares at me like I've lost my mind. Mouth agape and eyes wide, she's displaying astonishment and dumbfoundedness to best of her ability. It takes Rivera a minute to say anything at all. But it's not her that breaks the silence.

  
"A witch-fucking whore. What a surprise," a voice says weakly from somewhere to my right. Recognising its owner, I stop the showcase of complete madness and move to investigate as far as the cage lets me. I didn't notice at first, taken aback by Rivera and the entire situation, but there is another cage in the room. About the same size, some thirty feet away, maybe closer. A man stands inside it, leaning on bars, glaring unwaveringly at the ground between our cages. Never lifting his gaze. He's dressed in leather pants and a black tunic with deep cut cleavage, exposing most of his chest. A black cloak pours from behind him. No armor, the same as me. A brothel groom.

_She dressed us both in perverse wedding clothes. What a disturbed bitch._

I stare at him in untamed shock, breathing heavily. This is the first time I see him conscious or hear his voice since the betrayal. A reassuring warmth plagues my mind, spreading despair and doubt instead of the intended hope and certainty. 

His entire posture sustains frailty and feebleness. He spent most of the past week lying dead, pumped full of toxins and tortured in numerous ways. Whatever he's gone through.. it left him broken. It's clear by pure observation. His head and hands are trembling noticeably. However much I want to question his well-being or find out details behind what took place, Rivera is still present. Watching us. Waiting for a reaction. She'll only gain pleasure from our interaction, as her journal suggests. This is likely just another one of her experiments, perhaps also payback for all I've done. Shaking my feelings, pushing them away, I reluctantly shift my gaze to Rivera again, walking back to where I stood a moment ago.

  
A chuckle escapes me. "You dressed us both in wedding clothes?" I ask, laughing. "No way! I thought you were just fucking with me when you talked about 'hidden meanings'. But this one.." interrupting the ridicule, I throw her a disappointed grimace. "It's kind of embarrassing, honestly. **Really** on the nose. What's next, are you going to make us kill each other? So unoriginal! Even the Serpents had more imagination."

If there was any amusement in Rivera's expression before, it's now wiped clean. I wasn't sure how she'd react, but I suppose she doesn't encounter defiance very often, if at all. Glaring at me wrathfully, she breaks her long silence. "I cannot wait to watch you suffer, break and die."

"Keep fucking dreaming, then. It's not going to happen. You still have hells to pay," I respond bitterly immediately, revealing my intentions in heedless aggression.

  
A mild, sly smirk appears. "Tell me, do you know what 'aversion therapy' is?" she retorts with a question.

The term is familiar to me. A menacing expectation strikes my mind. "Oh I'll know soon enough, when I get to watch you squirm in pain," I shoot a hissing response at her, stalling for time, trying to figure out a way of escaping the cage. _Maybe the lock to the door is breakable?_ I back off from the bars and lean my back on the side opposite of the door, now facing the direction of Brash's cell. His head still hangs low, half-heartedly aimed at the same spot as minutes ago. The discernable bits of his expression shout nothingness.

"You see, after you had made your.. 'escape', it was clear you did something with the male. You shouldn't have unhinged the door, it only provided me with the necessary opportunity," she begins elaborating, excitement growing in her tone.

Anyway.. the lock. I examine it as inconspicuously as possible. It's clear that I won't be able to open it. There is no keyhole. The cage looks welded, closed permanently. Obviously, it has been sealed by magic and only the same kind can unseal it.

Rivera continues, likely not paying mind to my investigation. "Probing his subconsciousness for memories of your encounter, quite the discovery presented itself!" she laughs for the first time since I awoke, regaining some of her cruel confidence. "If only I knew what you told him, but watching was more than enough. Your inability to avenge yourself, even trying to drag him out, nearly made me barf. Truly pathetic compared to your current fierceness," she spits, tone souring more with each second.

I lift my gaze from the lock and steal a look at Brash again. He meets mine with his blank, emotionless look. I shiver and frown involuntarily before turning my head in the direction of Rivera.

"So, knowing you'd return to rescue your traitor, I applied some of my theoretical knowledge! All those toxins and physical tests did **wonders** , combined with my forcing images of you into his head. I need only release you both and he will end you, no command needed. That's how deeply I made him despise you. Irreversibly. Isn't aversion therapy just.. **the best**?" she finishes the lecture with one of her notoriously monsterous laughs. A deep and passionate laugh.

Hearing the combination of ruthless words escaping her, realising what she's saying, I jerk my head back to look at Brash, throwing myself off the bars and approaching ones that stand between us. Searching his expression, it's clear she's not lying. There's nothing in his eyes. They're empty. Emptier than when possessed in the arena. Absolutely devoid of feeling.

_  
What the fuck has she done.  
  
_

"Brash?" I whisper out, voice burning with uncertainty. It's clear that Rivera recognises my concern, but I care not. My red act wasn't forcing any results anyway. Plus, she said she means to release us and watch me get killed. So, fuck it.

Brash doesn't reply in any way; not words, expressions or movement. The only response I recieve is his continuously empty look. Rivera, on the other hand, finally seems to be enjoying herself the way she expected to. A series of giggles pierces the tension. "As you can see, I have placed your weapons on the ground between the cages! Now, since I favour the male **for once** , I was kind enough to place them closer to him. That only means one thing for you, female," she chuckles as she addresses me, "Run for your weapons. Kill or be killed. Only then will you have a chance to fight me properly."

Glaring at her furiously, my hands tense up in fists. 

_I don't think so, witch._

"Now, I don't wish to delay you two any further. Birds of the same feather flock together. So, indulge me,.." I notice her arm rising, wrist twisting, "..and flock!"

Screech.

_I won't give you the pleasure of seeing us murder each other._

The cells open.

_You didn't have enough time to get through to him._

We run out to our weapons. Even if they're closer to Brash, I'm there more quickly, already gripping them as he picks his sword up, instantly swinging at my head.

_I had weeks._

Remembering just how totally he annihilated me in the arena, I don't let him strike me, no matter what. I keep my stance extremely low, flexible in the knees, making dodging easier and less taxing.

_You only had a few days to break his mind._

Even though he's incredibly eager to slay me with his blade, he's also slow. Slower than I remember, likely due to the exhertion from torture and dying, or I am faster thanks to the extensive training with Mors.

_I can get him back to his senses._

Knowing only one swing of his sword would send me flying, I improvise and try to use my guard palm to push against his attacks. The same way I did it when checking for magical traps. I can't say whether it's working or not. All I know is that it rids me of a lot of focus, so I stop the efforts.

_He's not relenting because he thinks me an enemy._

As we move around the area with me trying to avoid all swings, I realise the only way to calm him is with words.

"Brash.. Stop it already!" I gasp out while backing away. No reaction, only more swings. 

_Not good enough, I need to get him to listen first._

Waiting for a swing, I watch his sword approach. Once it passes around, I grab him by the arm and, pressing my foot against the ground powerfully, I twist around him, slamming into his back. Holding the arm behind him, I've got him in a temporary grasp.

"You know who I am! Fight whatever the hag put in your head!"

He jerks his arm out of my clasp and returns to swinging relentlessly. It's difficult to keep up with the dodges. After all, my endurance is quite laughable. Still, I've got to keep going.

_Not. Good. Enough. She got through to him deep. The only thing that remains.. The only thing she couldn't have possibly destroyed.._

We move around the room in circles as my strength wanes. His does only barely. I've only got the power to dodge a few swings. Time to deflect also.

"Brash. Remember!"

Deflecting hurts extremely as the guard blade runs into my forearm, since I've no bracers to protect me anymore. Blood splatters some of the white dress and cloak.

"The camp."

I dodge the incoming wild, savage swing. A frown appears for a moment before he hushes it away. Seeing an opening, I throw my elbow towards his neck, attempting to incapacitate him just like the Serpent woman did to me. No success.

"The.. forest."

Another necessary deflection; a weaker swing, still running into my skin as I hroan through gritted teeth. His frown returns and stays.

"Remember the tree," I begin pleading desperately, preparing for more swings and hits.

One more swing approaches, but it's thrown incredibly high, allowing me to avoid it easily. His frown intensifies, now joined by twisted mouth corners.

Not giving up still, I continue weakly, "Remember us together, Brash."

He raises his sword, ready to swing but doesn't continue.

_He's coming back._

  
An irritated groan sounds from behind me, "This is becoming rather boring! Time for you to finally die, pest!" I think I hear an incantation but I can't turn around. Brash is still the highest threat right now. At least he should be, but.. In an unprecedented move, he throws his sword to the ground and, grabbing me by the shoulders, he turns my entire body around, switching our positions. We only get a second of our eyes meeting before-

His body shakes in its entirety as his head stiffens, mouth opening with a yelp. Blood flies out, stopping on my skin, staining my face. Breathing becoming panicked and perturbed, I search his gaze for answers. As frenetic as his eyes seem, his expression and posture relax and.. he falls to the ground onto his side, dragging me with him.

Once we're down, I notice something sharp peeking out of his torso. Three blade tips, one through his non-heart, another between his lungs and the third in his stomach. Meeting his eyes again, I detect no life in them. Nothing whatsoever.

_He's gone. He's dead. He.. killed himself.. to save me from Rivera's spell. Now it's me watching **him** die instead._

With his motionless grips still placed on my shoulders, I reach my trembling hand and shut his eyelids slowly. 

_Brash will come back. But before he can do that, I must.. deal with Rivera. Alone._

Shutting my shocked, blurry eyes, I blink multiple times and shake my entire head vigorously, snapping out of the despairing trance. Once anger overtakes shock, I move away from Brash's corpse, beginning to stand up.

"Well.. I suppose I didn't care which one of you died. At least this way I have a new, unbroken play-thing!" Rivera joyously announces. "I shall eat his heart, and once I am done testing you, your heart will become mine as well. All in the very near future!"

Standing firmly, weapons gripped and prepared for a strike, I breathe in deeply.

  
With new-found determination, I stare her down.   
  


"Bitch. You don't have a future."

  
Carelessly, I lunge at the barrier that cuts the area in half and protects her, knowing I will most likely be either kept at bay or thrown off. The whole point of my lunge isn't a killing strike, but gaining information. And, once the strike falls, I recieve the exact knowledge I yearned for.

Rivera laughs, tone squeaking with amusement, finding my efforts comedic. "Silly rat. This isn't the correct path out of the maze," she mocks before moving her palms towards me, throwing my entire body backwards, nearly all the way back to where Brash lies. "I should test your magical endurance! Just how much fire can one little red withstand, I wonder?"

With a grim sneer, she chants an incantation from behind the barrier, palms aimed at me. 

"Vim flamma ignis!"

Quickly recalling how Jarlan described the firepower of the Scarcewall witch, I jump up from the ground and run to my cage to hide behind a nearby pillar. If I took only a moment longer, my skin would have been branded irreversibly. Even through the pillar, I feel the power of her fan of flames. It crawls around the structure, seeking my body hungrily.

"Come out, pest!" she yells in audible pleasure.

_How the fuck can I get a clear hit now?_

The flame intensifies. I feel it burning the cloak, so I tear it off instantly.

"Come out, or.. I'll find something better to burn!"

Alerted by her threat, I throw my head to the side, glancing at the only other possible target she could aim for. And the moment I see him, the flame fades in strength. But rather than die out, it moves away from the pillar and in the direction of Brash's motionless body.

_She's going to- No. She's not._

Snapping out of my state of shock and letting the dirk in my left hand slip completely, I quickly switch the ring from my right hand to the left, placing it on its ring-finger. I grasp the dagger in my right hand by its blade instead of the handle and run towards Brash, keeping my body as low as possible in bent knees.

The fire moves fast, but I move faster. Keeping the empty left hand up in high-guard, I put the entirety of my trust behind the ring's protection as the fire engulfs me.

I feel none of it.

When I reach Brash, I drop down to the floor completely, landing on his legs. 

The fire is here.

And it does nothing. At least in terms of damage. I can still feel the searing heat. In an instinct, I open the left hand's palm and press against the fire, the same way I tried against Brash's swings. Mors said element control was possible. And that will is more powerful than knowledge. Pushing against the fire, it actually seems to be backing away. I suppose if Rivera knew what I was doing and what results the fire was having, she'd press on much more powerfully and scorch us both. 

_  
The element of surprise._

  
Keeping the left hand raised, I throw my dagger in the direction of Rivera. When I lunged at her before, I found out the barrier only keeps my body away. Not my weapons. Range is my only option, and she isn't expecting that from me.

As the dagger flies, it's clear it would never hit. Of course, I'm not relying on it just hitting by sheer luck. Now also raising my right hand, I focus on guiding the dagger to its target using control. I've never tried this before, but I know I will succeed. I must, so I will.

The fire weakens before becoming extinguished completely. Even the room's barrier falls down. Exhausted by all the fighting, running and concentrating, I can barely make out what's happening.

My dagger looks to have found Rivera's hip. She's limping away, heading somewhere to the side. A loud ring echoes through the room. I can only assume she pulled the dagger out. She doesn't heal like we do. This will hurt. And it clearly does. Her mild cries assure me of that.

Before I can even attempt getting up and pursuing her, an aggressive, blue flash of light bursts around her body, engulfing her whole. And just like that, she's gone. I can't say exactly what she did just now, but she must have relocated somewhere, most likely using some sort of an item she picked up from wherever she limped to.

_Fucking.. whatever. I'll get her._

She's weakened. I forced her back. I wounded her. I won this battle, but.. the war is not decided, yet.

  
With a bit of strength returning, I move away from Brash and, pressing my empty palms against the ground, I stand up confidently. Victoriously. Seeing the precise spot she dropped the dagger to, I extend my right arm and will it to me. It approaches instantly. Once my hand envelops its handle, I spot the sheer amount of blood left on it. I stabbed her deeply. Then again, she **is** a witch. I can't underestimate her. She must know just as much as Orchid did. Creating a healing salve shouldn't be very difficult for her. Still, it's a success. And I've earned us a moment of respite.

Glancing at Brash's corpse, my heart sinks. I wish it didn't, but it does. He protected me at the expense of his own life. We could have both avoided the spell if he had just told me, but.. he did this instead. Purposely killing himself in my place.

 _Fuck. Keep it together, Bright._ I need answers. Only then I can decide what matters.

Taking a few steps from Brash, I extend my left arm, bringing the dirk into hand from behind the pillar which Rivera cast flames on.

_It will take Brash some time to resurrect, I'm sure. I shouldn't waste any moment._

  
Turning away from him, I glare at where Rivera stood only moments ago. Extending my arms to the sides, gripping the weapons, I open my fists and let the weapons drop. But before they can, I attempt to raise them upwards. They drop down anyway. I bend over, pick the weapons up and repeat the exact same steps.

_That dance of death Mors displayed.. It was incredibly impressive. She told me I must learn to control my weapons to a fault._

I open my fists and let the weapons drop. They collide with the ground despite my efforts. Still, the impact isn't as severe as before. Improvement.

_I must ask Brash about all that transpired. I must know the truth, however painful._

And again. The weapons drop from my fists. This time, only one falls to the ground. The other remains hovering in the air.

I smirk.

_Let's keep going, shall we?_  
  



	21. Bleed Our Scars Dry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission is in session again.

_♪ Why, sparrow, why,_   
_Won't you tell me why I'm sad?_   
_Sing us both a melody, the best that you can. ♪_

A folk song spreads through my mind as I hum its tune outloud, bejewelling the whooshing sounds of air being cut by levitating blades. The dance-like motions of both arms take me back to Feline festivals. Sparrow festivals. Dances and songs. Rather surreal, compared to my current situation. Even though my proficiency is nowhere near Mors's, I manage to keep one weapon static in the air while guiding the other at the same time, following my hand's movement perfectly and accurately.

_♪ When you sit on that tree,_   
_And you look in my eyes,_   
_I wonder what goes on in your mind. ♪_

Brash lies motionless on the ground behind me. It's been about half an hour since Rivera retreated. Having pulled the blades out of his chest and laying him on his back, all that remains is to wait. I mean to use the time for thinking of the exact questions I desire to ask once he awakes. But, instead, I distract myself with control magic.

_♪ Speak, sparrow, speak,_   
_Oh, please, won't you try?_   
_Tell me all the answers to this meaningless life. ♪_

Questions will come naturally, I am sure of that. Either way, I'm anxious about the incoming conversation. That one-sided chat I initiated during our fight can hardly count as speaking. I ponder on what he might act like, all alone with me. Or what he will do in general. Will he get up and try to leave? Perhaps attempt to kill me again? I am honestly clueless. Clueless and terrified. Not that I'd let him see.

_♪ Sing, sparrow, sing,_   
_Sing away our pain,_   
_I'll never hear a melody as sweet as today. ♪_

Bringing the dirk to my left palm, I raise my left leg high and stuff the dirk into the high boot. They weren't made for this, unlike my own boots, but it's the best sheath I've got right now. I only need the dagger at the moment. If necessary, I may always pull the dirk out quite effortlessly. Not only by raising my leg, but with control also.

_♪ Cause you're up in that tree,_   
_And you look in my eyes,_   
_And I wonder how, but you're saying goodbye. ♪_

Having finished the song and the humming, the entirety of my focus shifts towards the dagger levitating before me, threatening the area with its very presence. Hand right, dagger right. Hand up, dagger up. Hand down and up, dagger down and up. Every motion of mine is mirrored with its own, blade pointing forward, ready to strike on command.

_It's a good thing I use short and light weapons. I can't imagine trying to do this with a longsword._

A few more circular motions become reflected in the dagger's graceful, airborne, mesmerising dance.

  
Sounds of dull movement alert me, stealing all attention. Bringing both weapons into my hands with control, I instantly turn around, striking a guard in preparation. The obvious culprit of the heavy sounds stands about ten feet in front of me. A paragon of true breakdown; physical and emotional. Even through all that, he looks right into my eyes, calmly searching for an indication of my intentions with the raised guard. As we stand here, both dressed in brothel wedding clothing, both stained with blood, silence befalls the area.

I match his investigation with my own. Observing his movements but mostly his expression, it is no longer empty, no longer devoid of all emotion. Rivera's 'therapy' couldn't withstand the reminders of our connection. Brash fought through it, but it wasn't without cost. He's different. A flash of expectation, remorse and sorrow stares into my soul. Not the self he was nearly a week ago. Even though he is still a hulk of a man, all muscle and sinew, some of his bones appear more pronounced, as if starved out and rid of noticeable mass.

There is no threat in his posture. He holds no weapons. No hurtful intention, as far as I can discern. 

_Alright.. Alright. No need for the guard, I suppose. At least not at the moment._

Relaxing the tensed stance slightly, I lower my arms but don't loosen the grip. I can't be sure of what exactly he means to do. There's always the possibility of him snapping and asphyxiating me with bare hands. No room for error. 

Watching as my arms descend, his brow furrows in mild surprise and suspense, but only for a second. Returning to the expectant look, he turns his empty palms to me as his arms extend a few inches to the sides. Almost as if he were reassuring me he means no harm. As if.. inviting me into an embrace. A few steps. He's nearing me cautiously with the spread arms. 

  
From ten feet, the distance shortens to nine, eight..

  
My insides twist, compress, turn upside down. Lips part. Breathing intensifies. Eyes widen in terror. Not terror caused by fear of him, but by fear of my sudden wanting to approach and feel his arms protecting, shielding, guarding me.

  
..seven, six..

_  
No. No, no, no. Wake up. He threw you to the witches. Betrayed you right after having his way with you. Killed you on command. Questions and answers seem rather fucking important, regardless of feelings._

  
..five, four..

  
Amassing obligatory confidence and determination, my mouth sets and eyes turn bleak, cold and harsh. Twisting the weapons from front to back, I know he will decipher that as a veiled threat. Only he would - after all, he is the one who taught me all.

As expected, his approach halts instantly. Four feet away. Barely more than an arm's length. Enough to make concentrating strenuous. Still, I must not relent in my resolve. Of course, that is only made increasingly difficult by his demoralised expression, one robbed of all spark and hope.

Out of nowhere, he drops down to the ground on one knee, head held low, arms hung carelessly. He's kneeling right in front of me, as if preparing for an execution, ready to be beheaded. I presume he expects me to kill him?

  
Reacting by taking a step back, I grimace bewilderedly at his enervated, despondent actions. And with silent but rapid breaths, I am the first one to speak. "What are you **doing**?" I inquire surprisingly forcefully, yet still in a weak, shaky manner.

His head sinks even lower, hair hiding his face full of devastation and surrender. "You deserved none of this. Fucking none of it. And I let it happen anyway." A broken voice of a broken man. "I shouldn't have ever brought you here. What good is my life at the expense of young girl's. Gods know how many I've made miserable, but.. you... What good am I if I can never do anything right."

Even though directed at the ground, his feeble words float up and appeal to my ears, engrossing them into listening. The amount of effort required to do that was negligible anyway, considering the heights of my interest in what he has to say. Maintaining confidence, not backing down, I ask calmly, "Then why did you?"

A quiet, dejected response lacking all hope. "Doesn't matter. Go ahead and kill me."

The bluntness of his request confounds me, which can be observed by the sudden warp in expression. Confusion and a fragment of concern. He wouldn't know, though. Still fixed to the floor, his gaze remains averted, knees and back bent. "Kill you? You **want** to die?" I stumble in tone.

"You know better than anyone that I deserve it. Remind me how I fucked your virgin pussy raw before handing you over to torture," he jeers the memories out, aiming to wound. A goal easily achievable. _What a fucking asshole._

Hissing in response, I push through the desire of following up on his earlier request of death. "Why did you do it," I growl as I smack the side of his face with my dagger's blade, slowly retreating it afterwards. "Answer."

He doesn't react to my threat in any way. "Knowing won't change anything. Just end me."

I flinch, "Would you leave **me** to deal with the witch alone?"

"..Fuck, no," he sighs, "But what else is there to do than die? It's not that I can't fall on my own sword, but my body needs to be burned. And I don't want to burn alive. So I need you to do it," Brash mumbles out, sinking his arms down completely, palms laying open and defeated.

 _He.. wants me.. to kill and incinerate his body. Just how badly did Rivera torture him?_ Witnessing the extreme contrast to his usual self, I nearly tremble. The amount of anguish flowing through him is becoming hardly bearable. If only he delivered answers, I could have already known whether his death was justified or not.

Curious to see his reaction, I walk around him, dragging the dagger lightly along his vulnerable back. I feel somewhat vulnerable myself, his body being so close and me having no pants or leggings; only a drape to cover my privates. Either way, nothing. No response to my body or the weapon. He isn't fighting or struggling, even with the blade on his exposed neck. _Gods, she honestly broke him.  
  
_

Withdrawing the weapon, I return to my previous position with new-found knowledge and a plan. "Fine, I promise to kill you and burn your corpse. **After** you answer my questions."

A moment of him considering the proposition passes. Hesitantly, he nods in agreement.

_Wait, he believes me just like that? Does he not know me at all? Idiot._

"Why," I begin the inquisition resolutely. "Why did you bring me here. Why did you betray me. Why was Rivera so obsessed with me."

With a profound exhalation through the nose, he unravels the mystery that has been boggling my mind for a week now. "It was all planned months before I met you. Rivera wanted your heart badly for some reason. I was supposed to take you away after Orchid turned you. But you were killed off and jailed before we even knew it."

_Months before our first meeting? That must have been around the time I began working for Orchid. Just how long was she preparing to turn me for? And were they aware of her intentions all that time?_

"Rivera started the entire war to get you out of prison. She made me talk Mace into forging the fucking Southern Alliance, all to gain leverage over Second to release you. Make you join the made-up mission. It took months, but he agreed when Rivera's attacks increased in power. Rungari convinced him."

A painful grimace forms, twisting my expression even further. _Mark?! Mark appealed to Lord Second, letting me out to my doom? They **knew** this whole time what fate would befall me? I thought the reality wouldn't be as disgusting as it sounds so far. But it isn't very shocking to hear him betray me one last time._

"..And then you arrived into the camp. The entire time I knew what shit you would go through. And I could do fuck-all to change it. If I didn't bring you here, Rivera would have eaten my heart and sent more of her cursed monsters out, killing everything in our half of Shermyr within days." The more he reveals, the more his words fade into despair.

  
Silence.

Dots begin connecting.

Mind races.

A single beat of my heart wakes me.

  
_So.. it was either my death, or his and of entire cities'. One person compared to thousands._

He shakes his head from side to side. "I should have known better. I should have told you to run and faced the consequences like a real fucking knight would have," regrets his broken voice.

Had he refused to go, a different Scarcewall knight would have finished the job. Most likely also letting others have their way with me, as the soldiers attempted numerously. And had he let me go instead, let me run away, thousands of people would have died. Him included. And most likely me, too. Regardless of his possible efforts, Rivera's determination for vengeance punctures all hope.

_Brash didn't have a choice. A lose-lose situation for both of us._

  
A crucial, riddling question. One Mors raised with her comment days ago. 'Could his reasons for betrayal be understandable, logical and forgivable?'

Understandable? Yes.

Logical? Definitely.

Forgivable? ..Hardly.

  
I breathe in.

I breathe out.

  
Slightly bending in the knees, enough to reach to his chin with my blade, I press it underneath, lifting his head. At first he tries to avoid looking into my eyes, but eventually gives in. Eyes completely rid of life.

"Get up," I command quietly, nearly in a whisper.

A confused frown. "I don't need to stand for you to kill me."

"Then I guess that means I'm not fucking going to," I say mockingly, casting a series of playful sneers. "I **may** have lied before. A false promise. About time I started repaying you for your broken promises of protection. And the violation of my trust."

Since his attention is fixed on me without needing the dagger's help, I pull it back and move it into the other hand. With both weapons clutched in my left fist, I extend my right arm and offer an empty palm. A hand readied for his. A hand to pull him up, just like he's done so many other times. Brash stares at it dumbfounded, unsure of what to do, how to proceed.

His eyes meet mine again. "Don't play with me like that. Even if I deserve it. Just kill me already," his low, shaky voice murmurs.

  
Right hand waiting.

  
"Do you want to die?" I strike him with the anticipated question.

Averting his gaze, he responds, "..No. But you know I've earned it."

"So, you don't want to die and I don't want to kill you. What a situation, huh?" A snicker sneaks through my restrained expression. Attempting to regain it, I press the armed left hand into my side. "How about we move past the subject of your death and focus on Rivera's instead?"

  
Right hand still waiting.

  
Keeping his gaze averted, I notice a weak smile form on his lips when hearing I don't desire his death. In a flash it's gone again, replaced by a fatigued appearance of a subdued man. Hopefully this state won't last much longer. I wasn't expecting him to be as demolished as he seems. I'll do what I can to help him snap out of it. Even though he believes himself undeserving of absolution and redemption, I don't think that way. Rather, I think the opposite. 

_What would have I done in his place? What would have I considered the best decision?_

The answer is rather simple.

I would have done the same thing in his situation. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Even if it's my own life being sacrificed, it would have paid for the lives of thousands. I suppose if I had to die, that wouldn't have been the worst way to go. I'd have saved my family, Feline, the men and boys forced into joining military and, most importantly, I would have saved Brash.

Of course, one could make the argument that he could have let me go, let me get as far as possible from the witch before she'd figured it all out. But knowing what I know now, knowing that choice would have doomed an enormous amount of innocents, I couldn't live with myself.

  
Lifting his gaze towards my body, posture and finally even expression, he frowns. "You look.. ready to fight her."

I nod, firmly staring into his enthralled, investigating gaze. "That's right. And if you honestly regret what you did, you'll help me. After all, I know you have reasons to watch her die more than anyone else." His frown intensifies, possibly wondering what exactly I'm talking about.

  
Right hand still waiting patiently.

  
He exhales through the nose, "I don't think we have a real chance.." and his left hand makes its way into my offered palm. A weak connection - I suppose he realises relying on my non-existant strength with his entire body isn't the best of ideas. Pressing his bent knee against the ground, he rises reluctantly. "..But if that's what you want, I'll do it," he finishes his sentence.

Now standing in front of me, we find ourselves maybe an inch away. Holding hands. Legs touching vaguely. Eyes locked together. Feeling each other's breaths.

_..No. I'm not ready for this closeness quite yet._

Freeing my hand from the connection, I press it into his chest as I take a few steps back, increasing the distance between us with an uncomfortable, wary smile. "It is. We kill her and see what to do afterwards. Sounds good?"

Now that there is enough space between us to allow his investigative eyes a better view, they wander all around my body. High, heeled boots. Exposed legs. White, revealing, perverse wedding dress, somewhat stained by blood. He lingers for a while, studying my face. My right eye. The scar Rivera awarded me with. With a deep-set frown of guilt, his eyes wander back to my body. Breathing growing visibly heavy as he examines my hips and cleavage. But, surprisingly, he snaps out of it.

  
Turning his entire body around, taking a few steps towards where he lied on the ground and, bending down, he picks his greatsword up. "Yeah. Let's go, then."

With my weapons back in their correct hands, I tense up. Focus returning. Things clearing in mind. Determination and ideas springing to life. "Do you know where we are?" I inquire about our location. I've not had the opportunity to explore the ruins at all, only the cells level.

"I've been here before," he reveals, closing the distance between us again but stopping a few feet away. "It's deep down. We have to ascend a few staircases to get out of here."

"Any idea as to where she might be?"

Brash takes a second to respond. "..Probably her fucking laboratory, three floors above us. Cunt must already be preparing something," he growls. Some anger crawls through. Good. 

I nod and, after a moment of looking his body over and fighting the deplorable desire to reassure him of my good intentions with an embrace, I shake my head vigorously. _Stop it, brain. I'll decide whether his wish for redemption deserves acknowledgement once we're done here.  
  
_

"Alright. Take lead," I share plan of the best approach, "but stop when we enter a new corridor. I must survey for her traps first. She laid them throughout the ruins."

His head jerks back as he shoots me a suspicious squint. "How the fuck are you going to do that?"

_I should probably keep as much information as possible hidden, at least for now. Not because of my lack of trust, but because I don't quite know what's safe to share._

"With my womanly intuition, obviously," I tease in sarcastic tone and hand motions.

A deep, definitely disturbed grimace. "..What happened after I took the spell for you? How'd you get rid of her?" he questions me in a harsh tone. _So much for his demolished spirit._ But his question is valid. I can't imagine what it must look like to him. Most likely incredibly troubling.

"I'm sure you know of her barrier, right?"

An imperceptible nod.

"Well, after I figured out what it shields her from, I threw my dagger at her. Hit her in the hip," I depict the culmination of the fight proudly. "She transported somewhere afterwards."

"The fuck? How did you hit her from such a distance?" he probes into the exact nature of my encounter with a distrustful sneer. "And didn't I say 'never throw your weapon?' What if you fucking missed?" 

I roll my eyes, "Yeah, well, I didn't. I suppose my bow-throwing excercise came in handy," I retort, grinning for a second. "Can we leave already? We can talk details on the way." As I head towards the only door in the room, I add, "..Or even afterwards."

His heavy but uncertain steps follow suit shortly.

"Okay."

***

_One more floor and we're there._

A few traps presented themselves on the way here, one avoided by us crawling underneath them, me leading and him following. Of course, Brash couldn't help himself but make remarks about my legs and the nature of their exposure. I managed to ignore them all, only with difficulty. Either way, we triggered nothing and as such, granted ourselves passage to the upper levels.

The mood weighs miserable on me, probably on him as well, regardless of however hard we attempt to cover it. I'm unsure of the extent his trustworthiness stretches to. As much as I'd love to believe his intentions to be righteous, I did so before. And got hurt badly. I'd rather stay on the safe side this time.

***

A new corridor. Brash stops and lets me do my job of checking for magical trap strings. With one arm extended, its palm opened and pressing into the air, I gain all the necessary information.

"You sure you didn't turn into a fucking witch?" he snorts while watching me. I don't respond, focusing fully on intercepting the returning ripples of intel. Even without my help, he finds a new question to ask. "Wait.. what you said in the atrium about the young bitch; the fuck was that about? Did you really fuck some cunt while her now-apparently-ex crone tortured me?" he presses aggressively. 

Recognising the rabbit-hole of theories he might fall into if I don't interrupt him, I momentarily shift my complete focus and look at him adamantly. "Of course not. Did you already forget what I'm interested in?" I smirk. He doesn't share my amusement, but does seem to relax his furious grimace.  
  
I sigh, "..I wanted to aggravate her, get some sort of a reaction. Didn't work, so I dropped it."

A swift, captivated look floods me with more questions. "But she **did** let you out. Why in the hells would she do that if you two weren't getting trigger-happy with your slut mouths?" he barks out, returning to his agitated grimace. Even twisting the sword's handle in his grip.

Flinching at his reaction, I quickly respond, "She didn't."

"Then how the **fuck** did you escape?!"

"I'll tell you later," I growl, irritated.

"No, you're explaining it **right now** , you-"  
  


" **Okay - Brash** ," I cut him off fiercely, letting my arm drop from its elevation as I step closer, facing him a couple of feet away. "You said the cells are down that hallway," I point to a corridor we purposely avoided. "There's a portal in the one Rivera kept me; the corner cell. Go in and take it. You'll be safe." 

Staring him down with lightly gritted teeth, I continue undauntedly. "I already said I'd tell you everything **after** we're done. Is that not enough for you?" My voice slowly turns increasingly forceful yet aching with distress. His own expressions ease, relaxing the fury into softness of consideration. 

Either way, I press on. There's no stopping the train of thoughts now. "Do you think this is easy for me? Being around you, not knowing what to expect?" A mocking chuckle escapes me. "Well, it's really fucking not! I want to crawl into a ball and die just thinking about all that happened. But.." I tense up, regaining control. "..I won't do so. I'll fight Rivera; with or without you. It's up to you to decide whether you wish to help or leave. You have a choice, for once."

Not wanting to witness his reaction, I avert my gaze and return all attention to checking for traps. So far, so good. The higher we move, the fewer traps. I assume she put most of them in the first floors, only leaving a few here as a precaution.

  
A heavy sigh. "Of course I'm fucking going with you, idiot. I'm not leaving you." Tame-sounding words wrapped up in a calm yet dangerous voice. Their presence embraces me in the warmth I have not known for ages.

I shut my eyes almost painfully.

_Gods..damn..it._

Turning the raised open palm into a fist, I open my eyes. "..Okay."

Arm descended beside my torso, I equip it with a weapon again, one I was holding in the other hand. A shaky glance of mine meets his own, visibly uneasy and troubled stare. 

"No traps. We can continue."

"Alright."

***

As we ascend the last staircase, I notice the change of atmosphere in this level. Sure, the walls are still all stone, but various decorations adorn the corridors. This is clearly their living quarters. Very homey, even for how psychotic they are. Or, at least Rivera. I'm uncertain of how to percieve Ari. She seems to have been taken advantage of, in a way. Obeying commands she hates herself for.

Anyhow, I survey the corridor for traps again. Unsurprisingly, I find nothing. At least I'm becoming quite adept in this. Practice makes perfect. "We're clear," I announce in a whisper, keeping all noises to a minimum, even stepping only on my toes, avoiding the clicking of heels. "Where do we go now?"

Brash doesn't respond with words, but with gestures instead. An opened hand, thumb forced over the palm. Two consecutive, short and swift swings in the direction to the right.

I nod. 

He leads in a crouch.

I follow closely, keeping track of our flanks.

  
A thought sticks to my mind like blight. Like plague. 

_Being with him like this again, surrounded by a constant possibility of mortal danger... The sense of security he provides is undeniable. He rids me of all fear. Even if I weren't afraid when I entered the ruins, now I am totally tranquil. Then again.. the fear of Rivera has been replaced by a fear perhaps more dangerous and possibly fatal. A fear of history's repetition._

In one swift motion, I rid myself of that thought by bringing my left forearm to my eyes, rubbing them with it. Once my attention returns to the corridor, I take note of a few torn paintings, as if someone ran a dagger through them. Only a select few. Perhaps ones Rivera couldn't look at no longer.

  
Brash comes to a full stop at a three-way split in the hallway, left hand flying up over his shoulder in a clutched fist. I replicate his halted movement, examining his fist for more orders. At first he turns his head from left to right, looking down both corridors intently. The fist opens and fingers motion me to move towards him. So I do.

He points to the right.

I nod.

A new corridor. With a raised hand, I once again check for magical traps. And once again, nothing on this floor. Indicating a zero with fingertips connected to the side of a thumb, I signal we're safe to progress. A prolonged, seeking look lingers on my gesture and afterwards on my expression, mouth and eyes specifically. Lips curling and jaw tensing, he spins on his toes to face me directly.

With a visible but inaudible sigh, he whispers, "It's down the hallway."

I nod in acknowledgement.

"So, how do you want to do it?"

Glancing aside, I elaborate on my plan. "What I need from you is acting a distraction. If we split her attention, she will have to focus on two different fronts. When I hurt her before, the barrier dropped completely. So, that's probably our best shot," explaining, I meet his eyes. "Or do you have any better ideas?"

An unsettled glare. "Where did you get all this fucking confidence, cat?"

I grin. "A helping hand. You'll meet her soon."

At hearing the nature of my help's gender, he frowns rather violently. " **Another** woman? Better not be a witch cunt again."

_..If only a witch._

With a contained smile, I shake my head from side to side. "You'll see. First things first, though," I whisper, motioning behind Brash, desiring to get to Rivera before whatever she plans to do to us flourishes.

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, he drops the subject and nods before spinning on his toes, returning to his previous position.

  
He leads in a crouch again.

I follow.

  
As we pass through the last corridor, more carnage reveals itself in addition to the damaged paintings. Shattered vases. Torn papers. Half-burnt books. Broken glass. _I would have never guessed Rivera could be this shaken by Ari's supposed actions_. Carefully avoiding stepping on the glass, as to not alert anyone by our presence, we press on.

Brash stops again, most likely for the very last time, in front of a massive, steel, double-door entrance. Bolted thoroughly into the wall, it's clear the room this door guards bears grave importance. A blood-curdling aura stems through it. The laboratory.

"We're here," he whispers so silently I can barely hear his words.

"W-we're.. here," I repeat in the same manner, though undeniably stuttering.

Unprompted, we glance at each other fearfully at the same time. Regardless of what we want to say or ask, this isn't the time. We both realise that truth. My fingers reach to the left door knob. His own follow, clutching the right one.

  
"On 'go'."

Mouthing off, creating no sounds, we begin counting down.

'Three.'

I twist the dagger, readying it for whatever may come.

'Two.'

Our glances transform into an unbreakable connection.

'One.'

I close my eyes as I breathe in, intercepting all the heaviness of air.

_Half-circles._

I open my eyes as I breathe out, lending relief to lungs and mind.

'Go.'

  
The door slowly creeps ajar, me and Brash funding its efforts. A surprisingly silent entrance opening. Suspicious. The door is robust enough to screech at the slightest movement, but it doesn't do so. However silent we attempt to be at first, Brash stomps all over our endeavour by storming into the room, his blade seeking its desired target. 

I follow regardless of his recklessness.

The room isn't as brightly lit as the hallways or the atrium, but we may still discern individual furniture, pillars, walls and possible obstacles. The, now opened, door leads into a short hall which then connects into an extensive, round area. Filled bookshelves, two chairs next to each table with tools and vials, cabinets overflowing with ingredients, hung paintings and pots with cared-for flowers. Five marble pillars stand tall in the center, reaching all the way to the ceiling, creating another designated circular area within them. 

We approach the room so quickly, it is too late when we finally spot the cloaked figure standing inbetween the pillars. A female figure. She waits ready, anticipating. Some of her dress is torn, stained with blood. The previously contained, conservative thin waves of hair jut out from underneath her hood, proclaiming vexation. 

Because of our aggravation and heedless sprint, we painfully crash into an invisible barrier about ten feet before the pillars, causing us to stumble backwards.

_We bounced right off, both of us._

She watches us. Not laughing, smirking or sneering. The combination of our location and situation shouldn't feel amusing to anyone.

"It won't be that easy, you miserable rats."

Regaining balance, Brash barks out from my right side, "I **can't wait** to shut that fucking trap of yours forever!" His impassioned words skewer the pressured atmosphere of this encounter thoroughly, providing momentary encouragement. Wasting no time, we approach the barrier again and, on my order, point our weapons first, searching for resistance. 

Her reaction reveals nothing. She says no words. Expresses even less. Her attention remains fixed on me. Observing.

  
And suddenly..

_What?_

..our weapons stop right at the barrier, not passing through. Brash expects nothing else, so he continuously swings at it once he's aware of its exact location.

Me, on the other hand..

_She strengthened the barrier. Our weapons don't pass it anymore._

  
Seeing the shock, agape mouth and wide-eyed look, she speaks darkly, "No more objects for you, little pale."

Her words spark even higher intensity of shock. _Pale. She knows._ Brash ceases the violent attacks, noting their lack of impact. And I'm sure he's also interested in what Rivera's plan is. After all, it seems our own plan is falling apart right before us. The barrier extends much further than previously and blocks all attacks, all intrusion.

"I underestimated you before," she admits reluctantly, "but I promise you, that is not a mistake I'd make twice. No more weapons. No objects of any kind. Your cognitive magic is worthless now."

 _What the hells?! How did she figure everything out so quickly?_ Now it's me who underestimated the opponent. I foolishly assumed her to let another ranged attack through. 

"..And so are your weapons. As informative as our meetings were, it is time you both fall," she mutters.

 _What do we do now? Is there a chance at all? Will we simply fall and return to endless torture?_ No. I shun those thoughts with persistence, keeping my eyes locked on Rivera, observing her actions with caution. I can't afford to think this way. There is no choice but fight. And seeing as she realises my true nature and abilities, I need not hide them no more. Surely this barrier is similar in nature to the previous one, only more powerful. If she loses enough focus, just like when I surprised her with my throw, she may loosen it, or drop it completely.

  
Hiding the dirk inside my left boot, I take a few steps away from the barrier. "Remember what I said earlier?" I ask Brash, praying he knows I'm referencing our short strategy exchange. A nod appears in my peripheral vision after a moment of consideration. Rivera chuckles, breaking her long-lasting lack of expressions, "Playing a cat and a dog, hoping to carve up a worthless strategy?"

 _I won't give you the time of the day anymore._ And neither does Brash.

With another swift, heavy attack at the barrier, he signals me to proceed. I have to assume he understood what I meant - him staying in front, distracting the witch while I assault her from the back. The issue with this plan is, of course, me not being able to get close at all now, weapon control becoming useless. But the barrier may yet be dropped. I hope to achieve lowering her focus, distracting her, presumably also lowering the effectiveness of the barrier. 

I see Rivera cringe at Brash's swings. "Still the same, silly rats."

Not lingering any longer, I lunge into a moderately fast sprint alongside the barrier, pressing the dagger against it. A disturbing screech. I feel the resistance recede by about an inch before returning to its original area of effect. It's likely that the sound surprised Rivera, same as it did me. I persist and press it in further. Even though I am trying to run slowly enough for Rivera to vaguely see my location, I'm already back to where I stood before. 

_She will soon begin casting her spells. There's not much time._

As I start making another round, I target books, vases and small decorations placed all over the room with my free left hand, bringing them into collision with the barrier. My attention needs to remain on the objects, but I believe I see Rivera's head jerking from one side to another, catching a glimpse of the flying items.

And the barrier pulls back.

That's unfortunately all the progress possible.

  
Rivera's finally had enough. Her arms rise, both in different directions.

"Dolor!"

Pain stops me in my tracks, standing at Rivera's left side. The dagger slips from my loosened grip, dropping to the ground in a defeated jingle.

Incredible head and body ache. Similar to the spell cast on me in the arena, threatening me into submission. But still, not nearly as severe. I needn't fall to the ground or grasp head in hands. Most likely the ring's fault. As bearable as her spell is for me, I can't say the same for...

  
An agonising scream echoes through the room. A sword drops to the ground hopelessly and so does its owner, hands clutching his head, as if trying to tear it off. Torturous spasms surge through his limbs. Witnessing Rivera's destructive frenzy, witnessing the anguish she put him through before but right in front of me, my mind freezes. The pain is still present, but angst and feeling of powerlessness beat it.

_..No.. No._

Wasting no more time on petrification, I sprint towards Brash, hoping to protect him with my ring as I did against the fire. Hoping to save him from torture. He's suffered for his past quite enough, knowing what I know from her journals and his answers. I won't let more abominable treatment befall him.

  
Of course, the ring doesn't protect me against control spells. Rivera knows this and applies it immediately. 

I can't move.

Rivera turns me to face her with a swift spin of her wrist. 

Brash remains in audible torment.

"Not this time, little pale. Not ever again. You'll stay here and watch his head errupt. And then,.." she smirks, retreating the arm aimed at Brash for a moment. His shrieks come to a temporary halt. Rivera's hand digs inside one of her dress pockets, rummaging through it, sending ripples through the dress.

The search is over. She sneers. Target found.

Resurfacing from the cloth shelter, a fist-sized crystal emerges, secured firmly by her fingers. A blue, opaque orb, radiating magical aura. Clearly a powerful item. "..you'll watch as I eat his heart before tearing yours out," she finishes her promise of doom with a longing glance at the orb.

Having control only over the movements of my lungs for breathing purposes, that is the only option of exhibiting reactions. Beside myself with dread, manic breaths expand and deflate my chest. Encouraged by my fear, the hand gripping the orb lifts, aimed towards the slowly awakening body of Brash.

"Dolor."

Another wave of torment surges through his body and voice. Rivera turns my head to face him with another twist of her wrist, forcing me to observe her work helplessly. 

"Look at him," she commands.

I can't twist my head away. I'm unable to avert my gaze. 

"You took my beloved. I'll obliterate yours."

Brash grips his head brutally. 

"Take Xan and meet her in Oblivion. I'm taking the male's soul and spirit," she menaces in a cruel hiss. "He's mine, now."

Blood pours out of his nose and ears, dripping onto the floor in an expanding stream.

  
My breathing stops.

And so does the world.

_I'm_   
_Not_   
_Letting_   
_You_   
_Do_   
_That._

My hands may be subdued, but my will roams free. Untamed. Seeking opportunities. Requiring justness.

Snapping out of the trance, I put my entire mind to resisting.

Breaking free.

Of course, this goal is rather ambitious, but I only need control over my face and head.

I only need to see her.

  
_If I imagine it.._

" **No** -" I rasp in a twisted voice.

  
I can see her arms lower at hearing words come out of my mouth.

My head twists to the right.

Determined glare falls on Rivera.

A shocked grimace meets me.

  
One.

  
_..If I focus on it.._

"- **He's** -"

  
I may not be able to pass objects through the barrier, but that isn't necessary anymore.

Smack.

The orb rises from her hand, powerfully crashing into her head.

She stumbles backwards, hands flying up to her hit eyes.

The hold she kept on me drops completely.

Barrier holds steady.

No more shrieks.

  
Two.

  
_..I know it will happen._

"- **Mine!** "

  
Lifting my arms, palms forward, I use all available tools inside the barrier.

A plan forms.

The orb will not be enough.

But, apparently, I never needed it.

Lifting my left palm, Rivera's cloak ascends.

A swift twist of my right palm in a circle causes it to spin around her neck twice.

And a final, jerking motion backwards.

The cloak tightens.

  
Three.

  
She tries to speak, most likely to cast a spell.

I don't let her; the cloak begins choking her.

And the barrier drops. Her focus destroyed. 

I drop my arms, stopping the control.

She sinks to her knees, gasping for air.

My control targets the dagger on the ground, bringing it to my hand.

  
Four.

  
"Mutare.."

She's chanting a spell, reaching for the orb that dropped down after hitting her.

_That's.. a relocation spell._

No time to think.

I need to stop her.

  
Five.

  
Jumping forward to grasp her arm, I momentarily find myself airborne.

Her hand clasps the orb again.

"..statum."

Blue fog appears, enveloping her being.

  
Six.

  
Parts of her turn transparent.

Not quickly enough, though.

I claw at her arm through the fog.

She tries to shake me off, but cannot hope to succeed.

My dagger finds its way below her shoulder.

  
Seven.

  
The fog surrounds us completely, trying to separate us.

_Not happening._

I hold on.

On and on.

Until finally.. 

  
Eight.  
  


The fog descends, revealing our new location.

  
Inferno.

  
Rivera cries in pain underneath me as I pin her to the floor. I'm not taking any more chances with her spells, but I can't kill her yet. Brash deserves seeing his own, personal revenge realised. Not aiming to kill but to wound, I hit her in a temple with the hilt of my dagger. 

No more cries. No more struggle. Knocked out cold.

_Sleep tight._

I've never knocked anyone out. I can't tell how long she'll remain unconscious for. No point in risking anything. I run my dagger through her cloak repeatedly, creating differently sized stripes of cloth. One goes into her mouth, another fastens it shut. More tie her hands and legs together. A tied pig, awaiting its gutting. 

  
Having a moment of respite, I breathe deeply, slowly and repeatedly. Calming my jumpy heartbeat. Sitting over Rivera's subdued, unconscious body. Claiming victory. _Finally. She's going to pay._ Sheathing the dagger into my right boot, I stand up to investigate where exactly she brought us to. 

It's a small room, perhaps ten by twenty feet. Incredibly similar to the one Raze transported us to; the one containing my heart. Infernal garden, as Rivera called it in her journal. Flesh-like walls. Witch-like items of demonic worship all around. And right at the center of the room, a glass display case, elevated to the height of my shoulders by a wooden pedestal. It contains.. a heart. A beating, crimson red heart.

A deep inhalation full of realisation. 

_It's his heart. It must be. She likeky meant to take it, consume its power and return to end me once and for all._

I glance at her incapacitated body with contempt, but turn my attention back to the heart. It's so very vulnerable. So completely exposed. I could just break the glass and take it out. All of this power-

_..What the fuck is wrong with me?_

  
I push the revolting thoughts aside. Carefully as to not damage it with flying shards, I punch the bottom of the glass container. It breaks apart rather quickly. My knuckles suffer damage but I know the wounds will heal within moments. And now, the heart is fully accessible.

Reaching my readied palms, I secure it in together-cupped hands. 

Beat.  
Beat.  
Beat.

 _I guess this is as close as I'll ever come to him giving me his heart, huh?_ I smile at the thought. Perhaps that desire is achievable, but definitely not advisable. 

_Whatever._ She's out and I've got his heart. My quest has been a success, even if shaky and continuously uncertain. Results are all that matters, and I'd say these results are arguably the best I could have hoped for.

  
_Either way.._

I recall her desperately reaching for the orb before completing the chant. That must be the only way to return, then. 'Mutare statum.'

_..Time to go back, bringing both Rivera and Brash's heart with me._

  
***

Once the fog falls and the laboratory reveals itself again, the heart I held closely to my chest, afraid of it escaping during the translocation, aggressively flies out of my clutch. _Should have known. The same happened with mine, after all._

All senses still hazy, I can't quite discern what part of the room we find ourselves in. Either way, I let Rivera's arm go from my hold, throwing her to the ground, persistently unconscious. Who could have guessed she was so physically weak?

Rubbing my eyes and temples afterwards, I shake my head all around, attempting to force it into concentration. Partially successful, I notice a figure nearing me from behind a small bookshelf. A wide, male figure from the looks of it. And within moments, he's right before me, breathing erratic, throwing me a shocked look.

  
It is only when I hear his voice that my senses return to order. "You.. returned.. my heart," he barely gets the words out at first, totally stunned by the events that had just taken place. "You returned my heart!" he says more confidently, realising that is exactly what happened. Raising my head to discover his expression, I'm met with a smile, both on his lips and eyes. "I can't fucking believe it," he persists in bewilderment.

"Of course I was going to return it. Did you expect me to eat it?" I snicker, watching for a reaction. No change, he's truly baffled by my actions. I add, "Nobody deserves her 'punctual care'."

A light frown breaks his joy, "Well.. that's noble of you, considering what I did."

"I only did what I knew was right," a resolute reply to his regretful statement.

And the smile is now gone, also. "Thanks anyway."

Involuntarily, I mirror his frown. "It was nothing."

"No. It wasn't nothing," he shakes his head slowly, taking a step closer to me, enough to reach towards my face. Which he does with his open palm, carressing it. And my frown melts away into nothingness. "That was the nicest thing anyone has ever fucking done for me. Together with you trying to drag me out of the cell. And everything else you've ever done," he says, voice lowering into a soft whisper as his unoccupied hand reaches my shoulder, pulling me closer to him. And.. I don't resist. I can't anymore. Taking the final step, I press my head into his chest and throw my arms around his back.

  
I can feel his heart.

Beat.  
Beat.  
Beat.

  
"If you need anything.." he continues the silent flood of words, "..I'm yours to command."

Lifting my gaze from his chest, I look into his eyes in confusion, but mostly sympathy. "Brash," I begin as I pull away a few inches, seeking understanding, "I don't need a dog. I don't need a mercenary or a soldier. I need someone who-"

A cry interrupts me. 

Rivera stirs awake. And what a godsdamned moment to pick in doing so.

Captivated by thoughts of justice, we turn to face her, forgetting our seconds past altercation. Struggling on the ground, tied, she seems to be coming to a conclusion that she is, in fact, going to suffer quite a bit in the next few moments. It's clear from her look of complete horror.

Brash scoffs, spitting afterwards, "Look at you. Already want to whine?" She tries to crawl away, but can't manage to move more than an inch. The wound I caused her clearly remains painful. Not healed. Still bleeding. 

Before approaching her, Brash steps in front of me and quietly warns, "Bright, you should probably not look. This won't be pretty. **Really**. And.." he stops, glancing at Rivera's terror-filled movements for only a second. "..I don't want you to be afraid of me," he whispers, looking into my eyes keenly.

"I'm.. not going to be," I reassure him, but fail to reassure myself.

"You don't know what I'm really capable of."

I grimace, both in uncontainable sorrow, thinking of all the abominable torture, and in undeterrable search for equity. "How can it be any worse than what **she's** done? To both you and me?" I ask, sounding as if near crying, but not doing so. "I should see her punished, if nothing else."

His look turns into fearful compassion as his hand nears my right eye, hovering a thumb over the scar she burned into me, before resting it on my cheek. "Okay then, sweetheart. If that's what you want." The second he calls me that name, an unbearable urge to embrace him affectionately once again comes over me, but I restrain myself, tensing my entire body.

I respond in a shaky nod.

Gently retreating the hand, he steps away and heads towards the squirming witch. "You're going to pay, whore. I fucking told you. Should have killed us while you had the chance," he snarls fiercely. A ravenous craving for violence. It sears each word he speaks.

  
When near enough and crouching over her, he grips her throat, causing a muffled cry through the gag. He laughs, "Where's your fucking barrier now, huh?" I notice the grip tightening, her struggle intensifying. His other hand grasps the wounded arm, pressing fingers into it. More dull cries and shrieks. Various kinds of assaults befall her in the next few minutes. Brash does not hold his punches, but it's obvious he means to merely hurt and wound, not kill.

"Give me your dagger," he orders me, tone forceful. I suppose the situation invokes quite the response. Seeing as I've no reason to deny him the pleasure, I pull my dagger out and levitate it into his hand. Once the handle touches his palm, he clutches it and drives it into Rivera's leg. Horrible torture is taking place before me and I don't even flinch.

Something is wrong with me. I should be against this. It's difficult to watch. I even fully realise it's wrong. But it doesn't feel like it whatsoever. _Perhaps I'm not the best judge of what's right and wrong as her previous victim._

Another stab pierces her other leg. And shortly after, arms as well. Nearly the same way I remember from the toxin-induced hallucination. All of the attacks are followed by constant screams and squeals, eyes filled with tears of misery.

Ignoring what's happening underneath him, he turns around to look at me. A few seconds of examining my state pass. I suppose he determines me capable and stable enough, because he extends his arm towards me, motioning for my approach. "Come here." And that's exactly what I do. 

"What was it you said? 'Promise you'll cry'?" he growls at Rivera, slicing the strap of cloth keeping her mouth covered. After pulling the gag out, the screams become ear-piercing. _How does he know what she told me? Could it have been a part of his torture?_

Crouching down next to him, I ask, "W-what do I do?"

"You'll do to her as she did to you, unfortunately without the burning. Think you can go through with it?"

_I.. don't know. Can I?_

Considering this option, I examine the crying witch. So much pain has been caused to her already. But.. 

  
'No use wasting time.'

'I wish we could have this much fun every day!'

'He thrust the dagger both metaphorically and physically.'

'I would detest myself if you were reminded of it.'

'How about we grant you such a reminder?'

'Begging me to stop?'

'That makes it so much better.'

'Now, please, promise you'll cry!'

  
Filled with reminders of her cruelty and monstrosity, I nod at Brash's offer. He gives me the dagger by its handle. Holding the witch down, he allows no interruptions to my vengeance.

  
I breathe in.

I breathe out.

  
Bringing the dagger above her face, I repeat what she told me. " 'Which one should I do? Left for a perfect copy, or right for the inescapable reminder?' " I lower the dagger over her right eye. " 'I suppose we're going for the right one.' "

It's a long moment for me, seeing the vast amounts of blood and anguish on her face. A wound scars her. Just like mine. But hers will never close. I don't expect her to live much longer, anyway.

  
"You know what comes next. Only one thing left to do, sweetie," he growls in a low, deep-set tone. Reaching for my right arm, he moves it enough so that the dagger points down to Rivera's heart. "Are you rea-"

Rivera pushes through the pain and rasps in a broken voice. "P-please, don't. T-take me t-to pr-rison, I b-beg you!" she pleads desperately.

Brash turns to her with a furious grimace. " **People** get arrested. Animals get put down!" 

I reach for his hand and place it over mine. Shifting his gaze from the weapon to me, his eyes inquire into what exactly I'm doing. "Together," I explain. I suppose I'm just too afraid of doing it on my own. Finding the answer he was looking for, he nods, softly enveloping the hand that holds the dagger. "Together."

  
Pushing it farther and farther, I feel it entering Rivera's chest, filtering her hopeless voice out. Brash's hand remains firmly set on mine, and so does his gaze. While we're ridding Rivera of her cursed life, we look at each other and nothing else. I'm searching for reassurance. He provides it. Always.

The restless struggling finally ceases. She's dead. The world is free of one more monster thanks to us. And countless lives are protected in turn. 

The war comes to an end together with her life.   
No more of it.  
No more.  
Long-awaited silence spreads through my mind.

However needless, we carry on with the grasp. His clutch isn't nearly as firm as before, rather soft and calming. As he lifts it, he takes my hand with him. Moving his fingers over mine, over the palm and then the wrist, forearm, and jumping to the side of my stomach from there, he pulls me forward from the crouch and into kneeling. 

He does the same, pressing our bodies together. The situation's suggestion makes my heart and breathing race. "You have no fucking idea how sorry I am," he whispers. I almost expect him to try more intimate show of affection, but he's content with embracing me tightly. I'm glad for that result, honestly. Our heads press together as we pull our bodies closer.

  
We spend ages in this hug. It feels like a peaceful eternity. The obviousness of our distressing surroundings reaches me quite late. 

  
"We should go. I'd rather not be here any longer than necessary," I say, shaky from the reality of what just occurred. I never would have expected myself capable of this. Never. Yet, I did it anyway. 

I feel his head move in a nod, "Let's get the fuck out of here, then."

  
Brash rises from the ground, offering a hand to pull me up. Seeing it, I smile instantly and accept. I'll never refuse this gesture, it seems. He moves a tress of hair from my face and smiles before kissing my forehead. "Take your things, we're going," he announces, interrupting our embrace to go and pick his greatsword up from where he fell temporarily unconscious before.

Checking if I have everything, I realise I merely own my weapons, amulet, ring and a set of perverse clothing. I suppose it's easy to know whether I forget something or not.

"I wonder what she did with our armor."

"Cunt buried it somewhere in the storage. It's stacked," he references the room I took my belongings from before. "I'd rather not go rummaging through there now."

Before I can even ask for his reasons, I notice his heavy limping. The exhertion must have been too severe, together with Rivera's week-long treatment. He needs to rest and eat a proper meal. He's lost mass everywhere on his body.

I run over to him, lending support of my entire being from under his left arm. 

"You don't have to-"

"Shush."

Noting my stubbornness, he doesn't press the matter further. Slowly, we make our way down the stairs and into the level containing the cells. I still check for traps. Never underestimate a witch. Not even a dead one.

***

Standing before the open portal, Brash seems rather perturbed by the revelation. "This is how you got here?"

"Yeah," I nod.

"You said the woman that helped you wasn't a witch. This shit has 'witch' written all over it," he says, wary of the situation. I understand his hatred for witches now. It's impossible to judge knowing what I know. Seeing what I saw.

"You'll just have to trust me," I smirk. "The only issue that might present itself is.. the other two in there."

And there it is. A glare, combined with a tense frown. One of his signature expressions. "The fuck? You never said there's more than some whore."

I reach for his hand. He moves it away at first, but after a moment of consideration, he meets mine with it. Our fingers weave together. His thumb teases my palm. "Promise you won't overreact when you see them."

Now he's honestly concerned and troubled by the insinuation of him overreacting. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Pleading with a harmless look, I press on, "I'll tell you whatever you want to know once we're safe. Before then, promise you won't try to murder anyone?"

"..Fine. I owe you that much," he growls. "But if it's some brothel full of your own fuck-guys and whores, I'm killing everyone and fucking right off." This idea seems extreme enough for him to jerk his hand out of our hold. "I won't be protecting a f-"

"Yeah, you won't be protecting a fucking whore," I respond harshly instead of him, annoyed. "Can we go? Or do I need to be told what a complete slut I am repeatedly?"

At first stunned by the fierceness of my reply, he smirks right after. "Just look at what you're wearing, kitten. Not very ladylike," and with a wide grin he looks my body over. "Bitch had good taste, if nothing else. You'd be my favourite in whatever brothel she grabbed this shit from."

Raising my eyebrows, I follow with a grin of my own, "Your 'favourite'? Well, who's the slut now, you absolute womaniser."

Not expecting that kind of a retaliation, he laughs out heartily. His hand finds mine again. "You'd be the only one for me there," he turns his perverse grin into a reassuring one. "I promise to be nice to your 'friends'. Whoever the fuck they are, they helped you. And you helped me. Seems rude to murder them on sight, doesn't it?"

I nod with a mild laugh. "That's right. Thanks for seeing reason. For once in your life."

One of his eyebrows flies up. "Hey, now. Don't push your luck, kitty girl," a sleazy grin begins forming on his lips. "Who knows what I might do to you when I have you all to myself," he sneers.

I cock my head to the side and sneer right back, chuckling. _I missed these exchanges more than I realised._

  
"Let's just go already," I say.

"Let's go," he repeats.

And we take a step through the portal, holding hands firmly, not letting go, afraid of losing each other again.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: Song referenced at the beginning: [Sparrow - Tom Odell](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VgWZASGHIRo)  
> [Rivera] Raven by Dropdeadcoheed (incredible artist), [DeviantArt](https://www.deviantart.com/dropdeadcoheed/art/Raven-628794645)
> 
> And as a setting for the chapter, I listened to his other song, [Somehow](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W27D7i65brs). I feel like the first 4 minutes encapsulate Bright really well, at least in the bottom third of chapter. Specifically the verse from 2:35 till 3:40


	22. Can't Pretend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The return to Inferno.

For several long seconds, all I can see is nothingness. I feel absent. Adrift. Stranded.

Then, a sickening lurch.

Twisted, flesh-like floor. The portal throws me out rather violently, spinning my body around. The braid I had wowen before departing smacks me right over the eyes. I drop straight onto my face as a consequence of the dizzying movements. _Ouch. That could have gone better._ I blow some hair that came loose out of my sight. _At least we're-  
  
_

A shiver of realisation runs through my fingers.

My hand holds nothing. 

I confirm this suspicion with a squeeze and light taps of the ground, surveying the nearby area.

Nothing.

Panicked, I lift my head and look around myself. Brash isn't holding my hand anymore. He isn't here. His body isn't beside mine. Though... I think I recall us being torn apart in the portal. I suppose he'll make it through any moment.

  
I breathe in.

_He better appear soon. He better. He must._

I breathe out and stand up, redirecting concern into confidence. I **know** he will exit the portal. 

  
Fixing the parts of my dress that crawled upwards, I hide my shameless nakedness before anyone can spot it. Well.. at least I hoped nobody would.

"Welcome," a female voice greets me.

Shaken by the voice's suddenness, sharp inhalation joins a surprised gasp. Instantly lifting my head to figure out who my gracious host is, the answer comes rather obvious and predictable.

At the very other side of the main chamber of our Inferno shelter, some twenty, thirty feet away, firmly stands Mors. Her hardened posture complements the stern, unwavering blankness of her expression. As always, she wears her red, majestic, silken robe. But something is different about her. When I left, her hair poured down her back in a long, white cascade. Now it's fixed in a loose braid. Almost as if she tried to replicate mine but couldn't quite get it right.

Aside from that small change, nothing else rouses susp-

  
My eyes and lips spring open at the sight.

  
"What the fuck?" I blurt the question out, meaning it more as an exclamation of bewilderment rather than a genuine inquiry. 

This exclamation is, of course, directed at the two petrified bodies standing frozen next to Mors. A demonspawn and a witch. Raze and Ari. As if stopped in time. Both wear the same look; astonishment blended with madness of anger. Raze seems to have been walking towards my direction, while Ari must have been casting a spell towards where Mors stands at this moment - at least that's what it appears as, noting her raised arms and agape mouth.  
  
Observing my state of perplexion, Mors's head twists in the direction of the two statue-like beings. With a mildly regretful grimace, she explains, "The demonspawn could see you in trouble. He meant to save you. I stopped him. The witch became troubled by that decision and attempted a curse."

 _He tried to help? Even though I wanted to rescue Brash?_ A twitch of confusion twists my eyebrows for a second. "He.. what? Well, why would you do such a thing?" I yell out, irritated.

Her head sinks, eyes meeting the ground, before jerking itself back into upright position. No more regretful grimace. A complete snap in her demeanor and posture also reveals an inner struggle she's fighting. And likely losing.

Turning in my direction, a blank look meets mine. "We needed you to deal with the witch alone. And you did. You and the warrior. As one. We are impressed with your method of incapacitating her, though we stand displeased with the following torment," a dark, distorted voice speaks. Somewhat similar to her usual one, but clearly not the same. _She said 'we' instead of her previous 'I'. That must mean they're all speaking as one, right?_ "It was not up to you to enact punishment. Do not act a black demonheart," they continue in a low hiss. 

_I suppose we should have restrained ourselves, but I don't think that was possible. For either of us._ "Alright, I respect your opinion. Still, why must have we dealt with the witch by ourselves? We could have used the help, you know," I press on.

"We observed through the amulet. Help was not necessary, as proven by the outcome. He and you live. The witch lies defeated. The mission you've been befooled to join has come to an end."

  
_He and I.._

  
With a twist of my neck, I turn to inspect the active portal. Still nothing. _Where are you, Brash? What happened?_

"We interrupted his arrival to speak to you first."

My head travels in an instant, quarter-circle motion, allowing the observation of Mors's face. A constant emptiness. I hope she can fight her way to the surface again. Whatever is going on with the three, I presume they're in an argument, responding to me as a default, unified entity.

"Well, what else is there to say? Just.. release him!" I beseech them, not knowing anything of Brash's current condition, imploring for his appearance.

A short sigh breaks the long nothingness. "He will not notice this missing time period whatsoever. But we do not wish to upset you. It is imperial you and we are on good terms," they explain calmly, raising one arm in my direction, definitely intending on casting a spell. I brace for whatever may come next, firming up, steeling my mind and body.

"Look to it," they command, motioning to the portal with their other hand.

Carefully, I turn around and watch.

The thick, red mist filling the egg-shaped archway swirls aggressively, forming various shapes, symbols and figures. The portal I entered and exited transforms with excitement and vigor. And there it is. The subject of its intent interest.

  
Slam. _Fucking hells!_

  
I should have expected this, knowing how the portal spewed me out. Of course, that doesn't lessen my surprise by any means.

A robust, heavy body targets me as it flies out of the portal. Breathless yelp of shock is forced out as I'm thrown to the ground, on my back this time. My head is hit quite hard under the weight and speed of impact. A cry makes my pain known. We're both breathing rather erratically, considering our current disposition. The moment he regains some awareness, his forearms press into the floor, lifting his body up and offering relief as he inspects my face from a couple of inches away, searching for wounds, concerned.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he mutters, panting deeply. Raising one of the supporting forearms, its hand moves towards my jaw, fingers grazing its outline until they stop on my cheek, circling it softly. A broad frown loaded with worry attempts to disguise itself as one of anger. "Are you okay?"

I nod slowly and repeatedly, eyes locked with his.

He smirks warily, unsure to what extent of reliability my answer should be considered. "You little liar," he growls, his hot and heavy breathing pouring onto me. "You hit your head pretty hard. I heard it," he continues with intention behind his words, moving the hand from my cheek to the nape of my neck, running his fingers into my hair. "I should take a closer look, sweetie. Who knows how badly you hurt yourself because of me."

I nod again, eagerly and expectantly this time. 

My response gets a more confident, avid smirk out of him. "I know just the thing to make you feel better." And my remaining inhibitions melt right away.

With that sentence, his hand begins lifting my neck and head, nearing our faces as a consequence. The rest of his body also nears mine, I can't say whether involuntarily or not. I slightly arch in back to meet him half-way, raising arms to run them along his back. It's just impossible to control myself when he's acting so intimate and affectionate.

  
Before our physical arrangement can result in a finalised display of warmth and fondness, a terrible quake of the ground, furniture and walls interrupts us. In surprise, my back drops down to the floor and so does Brash, not on top of me but to the side, having only one arm to act as support. As the shaking seems to only intensify, Brash immediately leaps upwards, greatsword at the ready, uncertain of what in the hells is happening.

Bringing legs towards my chest in bent knees, I pull the weapons I'm keeping in the high boots out and, rolling to the side, I spring upwards, the same way Brash did. He's prepared for anything, right arm gripping his weapon fearlessly and extending to the side, unoccupied left arm extending in front of me, stopping me from going any further. As thoughtful as he probably means to be, this gesture is unnecessary - I finally detect the cause of the trembles.

  
It's them. Or rather, her. That much is clear from the extreme behaviour. What isn't clear is... everything else, really.

  
Standing in front of us, the same distance as before, is Mors - hysterical, frenetic and completely out of her mind. Fiery red aura surrounds her body, accentuating her miserable anger. Eyelids and lips quivering, she expresses her panic further with violent trembling of her entire body. _What the absolute.. She never shows more than slight irritation. Something's horribly wrong._

" **Who the fuck** is that?" Brash asks lowly and in a whisper.

I can't even find the chance to answer. 

The previous trembles are now accompanied by the room's sudden expansion. Walls move further away from the center, extending the area we find ourselves in by quite a margin. Same fate befalls the ceiling. The surrounding furniture begins shrinking; cupboards, chairs, chests, cabinets and decorations warp into different shapes and smaller sizes. A few break into pieces completely, but even those pieces continue shrinking.

"That's-" I begin, but am immediately interrupted. 

The moment I speak, Mors's head lifts up. Her arm follows. Targetting me with her hand, I'm pulled towards her, floating through the air. And not only me. She's bringing Brash as well. Struggling does nothing; movement is impossible. By the time we arrive to her, she regains a considerable amount of composure. The aura still remains, definitely weaker. No more panic. No more trembling.

And she speaks.

" **You reek of** -" Mors stops herself and thinks of what to say precisely and carefully. ".. **red!** I wasn't aware **your stench** would be quite this powerful," she hisses at Brash. He cannot respond. Neither can I. There is simply nothing we can do, she made it clear to me that her power nears one of a God's, even in this projection form.

"If I wanted, I could **disintegrate your heart** with a blink of an eye," she threatens, angered, but a hint of sorrow creeps through. "It's clear your contributions to Múspell were numerous. Yet.." With averted gaze, one of her arms falls down beside her torso. My body follows its lead. _To.. what now? What in the hells is she talking about?_

No more shaking of the walls, ground or ceiling. No more expansions. Actually, at some point, the room must have returned to its original size, furnishings repaired as well. Wasting no time on pondering the surroundings, I stand up vigorously. Placing myself between Mors and Brash, I try to keep my voice as calm as possible.

"Mors, what is this about? You knew we were coming," I say with an innocent, harmless smile. Not wanting to aggravate her further, I keep the same distance I stood up at.

Shifting her gaze back at us, or, at me specifically, she frowns almost imperceptibly. "I knew. Yes. Of course. I only.." she stumbles with her words as she steals a glance at Brash. A wide-eyed look. And back to me again. "Forgive me. It will not happen again." She lets her other arm fall. Brash drops down.

Seeing he's free and able to act on his will, Brash charges heedlessly at Mors with his still-readied sword, not giving that action a second thought.

 _'Oh Gods',_ I think when I see the swing flying, aimed straight at her throat.

She doesn't even flinch. Her arm raised again, its hand grasps the sword by the blade. It stops harshly, not wounding her, not even slicing her skin. Clutching the hand into a fist, she shatters the blade in two, causing Brash to trip and retreat a few steps away from her. No more emotional imbalance; she's back to her blank yet searching look, which right now I find particularly comforting.

Brash doesn't share the same level of understanding. I suppose Mors didn't make the best first impression. "So **this** is your Death girl? Some bitch that can't keep it together?" he scoffs and turns to me with a furious grimace. "Yeah, I can see how 'safe' I'd be here, had I gone alone. You meant to have me killed, you treacherous whore?" he barks out, unhinged. Taken aback by his response, I only manage to stare at him, stupefied by the words.

Glancing somewhere behind me, I'm certain he finally spots the two petrified 'friends' I mentioned earlier. The way his fury warps into disgust and horror-striking wrath conveys such a message with ease. A wide sneer pushes for a show of aversion. "Holy fuck, I'm such a fucking idiot," he growls deeply.

  
 _This.. is.. spiralling down the rabbit hole quite quickly._ Shock doesn't let me control my body. I breathe rapid breaths and stare into his eyes, hoping to find a confirmation of his words not being genuine. But.. I know he means them. There may be very little I can yet do to convince him that whatever he's thinking is untrue.

Noting his interest in the two, Mors decides that, for some reason, this is the best time to release them. Lifting her arms, a flow of white-blue energy exits from her palms and envelops the statues of Raze and Ari. Slowly but surely, pieces of their bodies return to colours of life. Slight movements may now be observed. And in the matter of seconds both of them stand unfrozen. 

At first reinitiating whatever they were doing when stiffened, they both come to the realisation that everything is different. Ari throws her head around, looking from one person to another, deeply astounded, eyes telling tales of fright. Raze doesn't seem as shocked. Nearly mad instead. His expression shifts from anger to disgust when he notices me and Brash standing the room. Then, as quickly as it appeared, disgust turns back into anger when his eyes meet Mors.

"You.." he groans, knowing challenging her would lead to a swift death, but still desiring to speak his mind. As much as I respect you, that was.. incredibly rude, to say the very least." While Raze was addressing Mors, who remains unamused still, Ari has snuck up behind him, both her hands finding their way around his waist. He doesn't push her off or react at all. _They seem rather.. close, all of a sudden._

"I apologise. The two needed to overcome their captor by themselves. Only then could they have-" She isn't allowed to finish her sentence. And she expresses no surprise in that regard.

  
Brash laughs out like a maniac. "Holy shit! So you've been fucking a demonspawn, this little witch whore and your Death girl, all the while Rivera pumped me full of poison and played with my brain?" He laughs again, carelessly waving the broken sword through the air, dangerously close to where I'm standing. I am completely stunned by the speed in which things have gone downhill. "I guess you just **had** to return to complete your collection with a demonheart, right? Worthless cunt," he continues the malignity.

Determined to press on with his stream of thoughts, he steps closer to me, the sword's broken tip aiming at my head, forcing me to walk backwards. I can't think. My expression remains frozen in terror. _He wouldn't hurt me. Right? Perhaps normally, he wouldn't. But with the idea of me and Mors.. and the witch.. and the demonspawn, worst of all.. I don't think his actions will be very controlled._

The blade threatens my throat with its cold and calculated steel as I take another step backwards. Raze takes a long step forward before Mors stops him, freezing him and Ari in place once again. I shoot her a mortified look over Brash's shoulder. 

Nothing. 

_What.. Why-_

  
"I can't believe it," Brash spits the fiery words. "Thinking you weren't fucking around." 

The sword reaches nearer. I take another step back. 

"Thinking you came back to- ..kill the crone." 

Another reach. Another step. 

"While all you wanted was someone other than a demon to fuck you!"

The last reach. The last step. My body meets a wall.

"Sorry to fucking **inconvenience** you."

Pressing the sword against my throat, he sneers wildly, puffing air out of his nose as if letting steam out. 

"Have fun in your demonic whatever-the-fuck-worshipping sluthouse, you bunch of tainted fucking cultists."

And throwing the broken sword to my feet, sounding a loud ring throughout the chamber, he turns around and heads towards the portal. The intention appears quite obvious: leaving this Inferno shelter. Leaving us. Leaving me. Again.

  
Breathing properly appears impossible. Speaking even more so. As I watch him near the portal, near the final exit out of my life, a spark of irritation wakes inside me, stirring emotions in a slowly rising tornado. _How.. can he say.. all that. How can he say that and believe it._

"W-wait.." I finally let words out, accompanied by soundless gasps. My words mean very little though, seeing as he does not stop, not faltering in resolve. Taking a few unsure steps forward, I continue with more determination, "Please, Brash. Wait."

No response. 

He's nearly through the portal.

A few more steps are required.

Ones I don't let him take.

Running at his back, I manage to stop him when I throw my arms around his chest from behind. The few inches distant portal announces just how close everything is from falling apart. I can feel his disturbed breathing and incredibly rapid heartbeat. Taking a few seconds to realise what I'm doing, he tries to shake me off, pulling my arms off and throwing them to the side. I persist and move them back from different angles.

"Listen to me!" I yell into his back as his efforts to shake me off become less savage. "You promised to be nice, but you already tried to kill one of the people that helped us both," I growl, more and more irritated by his behaviour. He halts the struggle and it nearly seems like he's listening to what I'm telling him. I wouldn't bet on that, though. "Will you let me speak for once and not just rely on your initial overreactions?"

He doesn't respond, only keeps panting hot, furious breaths down onto my hands.

I sigh, "Please, Brash, just lis-"

Turning around inside my hold, he comes to face me but shoves me away quickly, creating breathing space between us. "..You've got hells of a lot to explain," he snarls, clearly distrustful of everyone in the room. "Do it quickly before I decide you're not worth my fucking time." 

I nod, somewhat glad that he's willing to hear me out at all.

  
Relaxing my tensed posture, I clear my throat and point to Raze who stands frozen once more next to Ari. Mors remains calm, analytically observing our interaction. "That's Orchid's son, Raze." An aggressive frown comes as a response, joined by balled fists. "He's the one that rescued me from Rivera, meaning he's also responsible for your saving." Remembering his lack of help when I tried to drag Brash out of the cell, I cringe, "Kind of."

_Anyway.._

I point to Ari next. "You know her, I'm sure," I frown. "She seemed much weaker than Rivera, and they were obviously infatuated with each other. So, when Raze saved me, I tried to make it look like Ari was the one responsible. All to weaken Rivera," I explain. Brash appears to ease his aggression only slightly. "And when Rivera tortured Ari, I sent Raze to rescue her to keep her here for questioning. And to further aggravate the hag."

He looks deep in thought, mulling my words over in his head. I continue down the line. "I told you about Mors before. She.." I smile uncertainly, "..usually doesn't act like you witnessed. Either way, you already knew how much she's done for me **and** you. In addition, she showed me how to survey for traps and helped me get the hang of my control, preparing me for the return to the ruins."

Looking from one of my eyes to the other, he growls, still furious with me, or perhaps with the situation, "I thought you needed my help, but you fucking don't."

Dumbfounded, I gasp out, "Of course I need your help!" His constant doubt is getting to me, gnawing at my ability to remain calm and reasonable. Then again, he's showing none of these restrictions at this moment.

"A witch, this.. goat asshole and some overlord's whore isn't enough for you?" he barks the question. Surprisingly, Mors doesn't retaliate at his comment and remains standing still.

  
Done with his disbelief, my tone turns as furious as he looks.

  
"Did you only expect some old wrecks of men and women? You'd accuse them **and me** all the same and try to kill them anyway!" I flail my arms around, underlining the audible anger. "You knew about Mors. You heard Rivera talk about Ari. And it was really fucking hard to find a good moment on the road to say 'by the way, the amulet Orchid forced on me also forced a demonspawn into my life.'"

Taking a step towards him, I continue, "Ari had to be kept here to not warn Rivera." I take another step. "Raze didn't join me in the rescue because of my wanting to **save you**. And Mors can't leave this plane in that body at all." 

Another step.

He doesn't stop my approach, but glares at me all throughout it. That glare seems to reduce in severity each passing moment. "I could have had Rivera killed effortlessly. All Raze asked of me was to consume your heart. But I refused. **Gods know** you're more trouble than you're worth." Perturbed by the last sentence his eyebrows twitch and lips curve, only for a fraction of a second though.

And the very last step. 

"I took a **huge risk** by going back alone, trying to kill her and save you. I'm still not sure how it even worked out," I admit in surprise. "But I returned for you. She's gone and we're both alive." Raising a hand in a fist, I push it against his stomach. "Is that not enough to make you trust my intentions aren't as screwed as you think?" 

With the fist released into an open palm, I move it upwards and stop it on his chest, all the while observing his glare expectantly.

  
Brash scoffs, "Did you let him ram his goat-dick down your throat?"

"I did nothing like that!" I persist.

"Right," he mocks, "So you say."

"You don't believe me?" I ask.

He grimaces ambivalently, looking from me to the others in the room. "I don't fucking know what to believe anymore." Shaking his head and focusing his gaze on my anxious expression, he hesitantly asks, "So, what in the fuck do I do now? Do you want me to watch over your big ass or should I just go fuck myself?"

Bringing my other hand to him as well, I lean in closer, placing my head right under his jaw. "Please, Brash.. Stay. Don't leave. I don't want you to go," I implore, confessing the tragedy-backed fears into his scarred, rapidly expanding and deflating chest.

  
Beat.  
Beat. Beat.  
Beat.

  
His heart sings the melody of distress, cheerlessly drumming inside his intimidating ribcage covered in seasoned muscles. The roughness of his skin coerces the softness of mine into compliance as I unknowingly move my hands further upwards and towards his neck. Unfortunately, they're interrupted in their endeavour.

"Stop that," he growls, clutching my wrists in a tight but not painful grasp, moving them away. Once they fall down beside my torso, he takes a step to the side, farther from the portal and from me. "Whatever. Fuck it. What the hells do I do here?" he looks around suspiciously, still exhibiting remnants of anger. But I don't care about that. He agreed to stay with that question. That's all that matters.

Pointing to each door and hallway, I explain which room serves which purpose. Mors's room, the bathroom, my room, a hallway leading to Raze's multiple locked chambers, another hallway leading to our supply room and the kitchen, and next to it, Ari's room. "Go lie down in there," I point towards the room fitted with my furniture from Orchid's. "I can see you're dying to rest," I say, not meeting his glance when he carefully passes in front of me, reluctantly entering the room.

I exhale a lungful. _That could have gone much better. But it also could have gone much, much worse_. Even though at first it seemed counterproductive to petrify both Raze and Ari, Mors actually provided a calm enough space for me and Brash to set things straight. Had Raze been allowed to approach, more violence would have followed surely.

  
Satisfied by the way events unfolded, Mors bows her head slightly and, with another cast of the blue stream of magic, releases the two from her spell. Regaining life limb by limb, Raze appears quite aggrieved by her repeated actions. "May you **please** not cast such a spell again?" he asks, stretching his wings. "You're rather forceful with it, stopping the blood flow to most of my limbs."

"I clearly stated you were not to interrupt," Mors addresses him nearly confused at his hurt expression. Ari doesn't seem bothered by anything happening. Not even by the fact that Rivera clearly must have died. Then again, she **did** torture her, even if only shortly. Always pressing herself to Raze closely, now to his left arm rather than his back, they stand comfortable with each other. Noticing my observation, he takes a step in front of Ari as if to protect her.

"While you were rescuing your low-life, me and this.." he turns his head towards Ari and caresses her cheek with one hand. Her expression melts under his touch. "..grateful little witch had time to speak in detail." They shoot each other a smile, Raze's definitely tamer than Ari's. "A shame, really," he breaks their connection to throw me a look of antipathy. "If only Orchid had her for an apprentice. Someone worth all the effort."

Crossing my arms, I snort, "So much for trying to save me when I was captured again, huh?"

A frown. A glance at Mors. She's watching intently. I can't say what exactly she's gaining from these exchanges, but they appear important to her. Or perhaps just a fruitful opportunity to study us under pressure. He swiftly returns his attention to me. "I merely intended to rescue my mother's gift to you. Both your heart **and** the amulet. After all,.." another longing glance falls on Ari, "..I have found a better suited wearer."

I flinch. _What the hells does that mean? Was his intention truly to rid me of my life? But Mors said Raze meant to save me. Is it possible he's.. lying? What for?_ "Well, me and Ari are here right now! Don't you want to see it through, then?" I tease, spreading my arms wide open, inviting him to reap his desired treasure.

A hurt expression. He hisses, "Do not try my patience. I would not disrespect Orchid's wishes so mindlessly." Ari frowns, maybe disappointed by his lack of determination to follow through on the promise, but I can't tell for certain.

"Then what was that threat about?" I smirk.

"..Forget it!" he bursts out, furiously stomping down a hallway leading to his chambers. "W-wait!" Ari yells behind him as he forces himself out of their embrace. She stumbles for a moment, but gives chase, intending on catching up. And they both disappear in a chamber. _Gods, what happened to those two while I was gone? How long was I gone for, anyway?_

"Go," Mors bids me to my room's door. "You did well. We-" she shakes her head menacingly but stops, "-I was impressed. But do not grow arrogant. The witch acted a fool. Begrudged by your feelings. Scourged by her own. Your future only holds more able opponents," she warns darkly.

I frown but nod in acknowledgement.

***

Four cabinets full of clothing, two on each side. A table accompanied by a chair. A tall, exquisite mirror. My bed stands right behind it, endowed with a few pillows and a thick blanket. Brash is sitting on a side of it, knees supporting his elbows which, in turn, allow support of his head as he contemplates something.

The redness of Inferno's fleshy texture is reflected in the light of torches hanging from each wall, illuminating the room perfectly. This redness also mildly presents itself on Brash. His usual rough, beige skin, quite a few shades darker than mine but still light, shines red and underlines his uneasy expressions further than necessary. 

Not wanting to interrupt his thoughts, I head towards one of the cabinets filled with clothing. I remain rather exposed, so I'd like to cover at least some of my shame. Picking a long, blue, cotton tunic fitted with buttons at the front, I cover myself in it all the way to my knees. With a few secured buttons, I turn to exit the room again.

"You can go where you like, nobody will stop you again," I address Brash indirectly, staring at the door which's handle I'm clasping. "If you.. wish to leave, knowing what you now know, I'll.. respect your decision," I speak the words hesitantly, hoping for that option to not become a reality. "If not, I recommend sleeping. We should leave tomorrow."

With a swift yank, I pull the door open and exit, distancing myself from seeing his decision, fearing which it may be.

*** 

'What is the plan now?', I ponder on the way to the supply room. With Rivera dead, the mission is over. So should be the war. I doubt we can just march into Feline and pretend that nothing ever happened. I'm more than aware of the royal family's views on demonic beings. We'd both be taken to Suntown before even uttering one word.

Since Brash looks like he's not eaten in years, I grab two rabbits out of a supply crate Raze stole from somewhere. He brought me quite the stock of food, nearly the amount to feed an entire camp for days. _I should have been more grateful to him, honestly. I need to apologise when he's calm enough to listen._ The kitchen's entrance is positioned directly opposite to the supply room's, allowing an easy passage. Nobody is inside. Of course, Mors never eats. Neither does Raze. And Ari seems to be rather reliant on him all of a sudden, so I didn't expect to find her here without him.

Seasoning and skewering the rabbits, I hang them above the permanently blazing infernal cooking fire. I prepared myself a chicken here before. However powerful the fire is, it's still going to take a while. Best use that time wisely.

  
Whenever I'm so sad I feel I'm going to die, or so nervous I can't sleep, I slump down a bathtub filled with scorching water and let my worry go. There must be quite a few things a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them. Currently, I don't feel the need for relaxation, but definitely admit washing off all the blood and sweat sounds like a good idea.

Exiting the kitchen and moving down the hallway, I reach the bathroom's closed door. _I'm such a mess. Clothes and skin covered in blood. Brash's blood. Rivera's blood. Mine, also_. Opening the door swiftly, I step inside the room and head towards the bathtub positioned nearly right at the center. A discovery stops my approach.

Someone's getting ready for a bath of their own. A completely exposed man's scarred, worn body stuns me in place. Brash. Luckily enough, it's only his back. Sounding an involuntary 'agh' of dismay, he becomes aware of my presence and begins turning his entire body around. That realisation forcibly wakes me.

Instantly averting my gaze and completely twisting on a heel, I crash into the door that I had forgotten was even there, dropping to the floor. With a short yelp, I get up and snap the door open, vigorously shutting it behind me. "Gods! I'm so sorry!" I apologise through the wooden obstruction that helps hide my red, totally flushed face.

I think I can hear a low laugh from inside the bathroom, but no words follow. 

_Why the hells didn't I knock?! I should have known he'd want to wash up as well. I'm such an idiot!_

Well, no bath for me at the moment. Deciding it's best to await my turn while watching the rabbits, I head back into the kitchen, remaining disconcerted by the accidental intrusion.

***

Done with my bath, having washed myself and my hair, I carry the still-warm rabbits on a large platter, entering my chambers. Brash is lying down on the bed on his left side, back facing me. _Right, it's obvious he'd be asleep. Oh well. I suppose he can eat the meat afterwards._

Tiptoeing towards the table located at the foot of the bed, I quietly place the platter down. Two rabbits. _I hope that's enough for him. He devoured the soups rather quickly before_. With one more step to the side, I reach the bag I left here before my departure. Grasping its shoulder strap, I lift it up and take the brush out.

Once outfitted with the brush, my close-to-being-silent steps guide me before the tall mirror. Its unkind reflection reveals my total raggedness. Even though the tunic hides the hideous dress successfully, my face speaks for me, dispensing tales of hardship.

_Whatever. It's over now._

No more braid. Loose hair. Ribbon at the ready. Multiple brush strokes untagle bothersome clusters of hair. Since its still wet, this process is made that much easier and nearly painless. No ribbon. Need to let the hair dry. Not wanting to lose it but not hide it either, I tie it around my wrist.

  
I examine myself again.

_I look fucked up._

  
Something foreign enters the frame of the reflection and reaches for my arm. A hand, holding my wrist in a tender clasp. I turn to the right. He's awake. _Fuck, I must have woken him up_. With a frown of disappointment, I apologise, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"You didn't. I wasn't asleep," he groans, inspecting the ribbon I had just tied above my palm carefully. Running a thumb over it for a few moments, he lets his hand fall down onto the side of the bed, hoisting himself upwards slightly. "What's that?" he asks, aiming sight at the meal I had brought.

Clearing my throat, I walk towards it. "It's obvious you must be starving, and a soup wouldn't be enough, so.." I lift the platter and make my way to Brash again, "..I prepared some meat for you." Extending my arms forward, the platter hovers right before Brash as he glares at its contents, awestruck. 

No reaction. Silence. 

Unsure of what to do, my arms bring the platter down onto his legs. "Just.. eat already." Nearly turning around, I remember his comment when I last attempted making food: "..And, no. I didn't poison them," I tease with a smirk. "If you want, I can do a taste test for you."

Raising eyebrows, unamused, he picks one of the rabbits up and tears a leg right off. I flinch and walk towards the door, sitting down in front of it, blocking entry into the room. With a slow and wary bite, it seems he determined the food harmless and.. maybe even enjoyable. The first rabbit is finished within a few minutes. _Gods.. Alright then._

The second one follows suit instantly. He devours half of it much slower than the one before. I smile watching him, happy he's getting proper sustenance. With a sudden halt, he examines the remaining half of the meal and throws me a suspicious, perhaps concerned look. "Why aren't you eating anything?"

Wiping the smile off, I respond matter-of-factly, "I don't need to eat."

"Yes, you fucking do, you moron," he frowns furiously. "Come here." 

"That's for you. I can make some for myself after-"

"I said **come here** ," he growls. A dark look. "Don't make me repeat myself," a threat emerges.

Mirroring his frown, I nod. Still reserved about the offer, I stand up anyway. When I reach him, he shimmies a few inches closer to the wall, motioning me to sit down on the bed. Putting the platter into my lap, he looks at me sternly, prepared for resistance.

"The.. entire half?" I whimper. It's a lot of meat and I honestly never eat more than a quarter in one sitting.

"Yeah," he snickers, expression softened. "You can do it."

Shaking my head vigorously in total disagreement, I insist, "There's no way, Brash! I can't eat all of this. I'll.. probably.. explode."

He laughs and lightly runs his hand down my right forearm, stopping before reaching the decorated wrist. No more laughing. A firm look appears. "Your choice," he replies in a low growl, lying back down onto the bed. Not with the intention to sleep, at least not right now. He's watching me intently.

I sigh.

"I'll try, then."  
  


It takes me quite a while to consume the first quarter. I'm incredibly full. _This is honestly impossible. There's.. just no way._ Typically, I would have given up and not continued. But Brash is still watching me, still piercing me with his eyes. I'm afraid of not displaying even an ounce of effort lest he showers me with taunts, so I push through. I don't intend on eating the entire thing, just enough to show my endeavour.

Picking the last quarter up, I figure it's a good idea to use this time for questions about his condition. We haven't talked about it yet. Plus, it should gain me more time for proper ingestion, one I wouldn't become sick after. And it shall serve a distraction, too; I'm trying not to gawk at him - he's lying right beside me, torso all exposed.

"So," I begin, chewing. "What's it like, being a red demonheart? Are you craving blood and violence all the time?" I ask, genuinely interested in the nature of his affliction. A curious, or maybe suspicious grimace. "Why? Want to know what waits for you when you decide to finally rip my heart out and eat it?" he responds in a surprisingly calm manner.

I definitely don't. With a tensed, disappointed frown, I growl, "Brash.." _Can he stop with those suggestions already? I thought I had made it clear that consuming his heart wasn't something I'd do._ 'Would you consume mine?' is a question I should ask in retaliation, if only to annoy him, even though the answer seems just as clear as mine does.

He smirks diabolically. "I don't know what shit you've read, but I don't find myself wanting to slaughter everyone on sight, or bathe in blood like some fucking cultist," he snarls the last part. "Anyway, what I do know is that being what I am makes me give less shit. You could definitely use some of that."

Before taking another bite, I inquire, "What do you mean?"

"You care too much about dumb shit."

"Like..?"

" **Like** when you left the room with that little speech of how I can fuck off if I wanted to," he says, irritated. "Do you want me to leave?"

"Of course not," I insist.

"Then don't say shit like that," he argues back. "I'm aware I can go whenever I want."

I exhale, "I just wanted to make sure you understood there's no need to stay, as if to.. repay me."

"So you **do** want me to fuck off," he repeats in a harsher tone.

"No, I don't!" I argue in a raised voice, angered by the constant insinuation.

"Then shut up about it! Do I look like I'm leaving?" he extends his arms as far as the walls allow, accentuating his exposed, rough torso placed invitingly on top of my bed. This sight.. It baffles my senses and nearly renders me unable to respond. "N..No..?" I reply, gawking at his scars and muscles. Not trying to raise questions, I claw at the meal without looking, searching for a piece of meat. I.. don't seem to be able to find it.

Brash laughs deviously. "You don't need much to distract you, do you, kitten?"

I nod unknowingly at his calling me that name again, inspecting his robust body. Hardened muscles tell tales of his strength, even if he lost considerable mass over the course of the week. I haven't had a proper chance to look at his scars before. My fingers still cannot find that godsdamned rabbit.

Moving arms underneath his head for support, various muscles tense and relax. "You're supposed to be eating, you know?" he reminds me in a low, deep, alluring growl, entrancing me completely.

I nod unknowingly again at his seductive tone. A number of his scars are incredibly deep, perhaps memories from fatal wounds, even though I can't imagine who could have ever bested him. The most interesting scar remains the one over his heart. One we now share. But his is unbelievably severe in comparison, exponentially wider and more intense. It couldn't have possibly been inflicted with just one opening. Multiple attempts must have been made at his heart.

His breathing grows more and more erratic, observable by the speed of his chest's inflation. "Do you need me to feed you, kitty girl?" he asks in the same alluring tone, moving his right arm from underneath his head towards the platter.

I nod without hesitation at whatever he says, not registering his words' meaning, mind fully focused on his brawny, impeccable physique. 

"Changed your mind about 'not eating out of my palm'?" he chuckles, doing something with the rabbit on the platter.

Shivering at that reminder, I immediately nod again. _What the fuck is wrong with me? I need to.. wake up from this.. charm he cast on me unknowingly._ But I make no effort towards that goal. My mind is a giant mess of desire and affection, unable to discern one from the other.

His hand comes before my mouth, carrying a piece of the rabbit clasped by the tips of his fingers. "Open, sweetie," he entices me with a softly growled command. I can't help but shiver again, following his order precisely. He smirks, eyes stalking my movements like ones of a predator hunting prey. "Lean in closer." Another ardent command. He can't reach all the way to my mouth with the way I'm sitting. I bend just enough to grip the meat with my teeth. Chewing on it, I can't tear my seeking eyes from his, completely brainwashed by long-suppressed thoughts.

He sneers at my, possibly lewd, expression of helplessness. More pieces of meat follow one by one. With the last piece, I'm unable to help myself and instead of biting down on it, I take the tips of his fingers into my mouth as well before moving away. A deep and quick exhalation accompanies the shudder that takes over his body as I do that. 

"You're such a little fucking brat," he groans in arousal, clearly barely able to restrain himself. But likely through sheer will, his entire demeanor changes. As if he just realised what we had been doing for the past few minutes. "Fuck. Fucking hells," he curses and turns around, showing me his back again.

Forcibly snapped out of the trance, I ask, "..What happ-"

"Nothing," he cuts me off, "I've got to fucking sleep already."

Silence awaits my response. With a nod he can't see anyway, I agree, "Right, of course," and get up from the bed. _Thank Gods for his self-control. I don't know what the fuck came over me._

  
Placing the platter on the table again, I walk towards the door and sit down, back leaning on it, blocking entrance and exit. Not because of Brash, but because of Raze and Ari. After all, most of their interaction came by without them being conscious. Who knows what they might try. I need to remain here and, if necessary, call Mors. She seems to have returned to her calm state. Whatever happened before, whatever came over her, I doubt it will happen again. It's possible meeting a different kind of a demonheart has this effect on Inquisitors or high demons in general. They're supposed to not be very friendly with each other. Perhaps that's why Mors and Sorin kept repeating that I 'care for an enemy'. She even said she's never seen anything like it.

Pulling out the dagger from my right boot, I play around with it. In hand only, at first. Front. Back. Front. And afterwards in the air. Drawing symbol with my hand translating them into the dagger's movements. I also experiment with the distance up to which I can control the dagger effortlessly. Not to the very end of the room, but I'd say it's a good ten feet.

And so, my practise continues.

***

A few hours into my watch, I fell asleep. Not unintentionally. I took the tunic off and covered myself with it, blocking the door with my back. I don't sleep for a very long period of time, but I do remember dreaming of something terrifying. Fingers in my hair wake me carefully. Open eyes reveal Brash crouching over me, patting my head. "Another nightmare?"

I nod drowsily.

He frowns, concerned. "You bring me to your room. Give me your bed. Then sleep on the floor, pushed to the door. What the fuck? Why?" he whispers. Yawning, still dazed, I mumble, "Well.. you needed.. to sleep. And I had to.. protect you from.. the two idiots."

He sighs, "Stupid cat," pushing his arms underneath me, he lifts me up and carries me towards the bed, abandoning the tunic on the ground. "You shouldn't be the one taking care of us both. That's **my** job, okay?"

I creep my arms around his neck and semi-consciously murmur, "Y-yeah, yeah, okay, you.. big.. bastard."

Placing me down onto the bed slowly and cautiously, he covers me in a blanket up to my neck. Letting out a monotone sound of comfort, I hear him react to it with a chuckle. "Yeah, yeah, you're just adorable. No need to remind me," he leans in and places a kiss on my forehead. "Sleep. I'll be here."

I open my eyes. He's beginning to get up but my hand stops him, gripping his arm weakly. Giving me a confused look, he returns to sitting at my right side, just like I did with him. "Don't want to sleep, or what? I'm not reading you a fucking bedtime story," he laughs under his breath. I smile imperceptibly and move my arm towards his shoulder slowly, finally feeling his body with touch and not sight only. His powerfully built and trained muscles wake me up from the drowsiness. The confusion of his expression turns into concern. Who knows what kind, though. Concern for me or for himself, seeing what I'm doing? 

"Will you.. stay with me?" I ask softly. A constant grimace alternating between worry, hurt and anger. "Where else would I go?" Brash retorts with a saddened smirk, his hand reaching my hair again. Enjoying the patting, I glance at him, eyes half-lidded. My hand still resting on his shoulder, I graze it lightly with fingers. "Would you.." I begin weakly, uncertain of what exactly to say. Or how to say it.

After a moment of no follow-up, he inquires in a mild tone, "What is it?"

Dropping from his shoulder, I stop my hand on his forearm and pull it closer, pressing it against my chest. "Would you lie down next to me, please?" I finish the heartfelt request. "I'll sleep better, knowing you're close."

Now it is him that offers no follow-up. I'm left with a constant glare full of thoughts. Examining my expression and the way I'm gripping his arm, he responds after quite a while, stern, "You don't know what you're saying, Bright. I'm trying really fucking hard not to-" As his voice trails off, I move closer to the wall, making space for him to lie down.

His sternness intensifies, turning into a stiff expression of fear. I tug at his arm again, bringing it to where I moved. Overcoming massive volume of obvious inner resistance, he exhales and lies down on his left side right next to me, meeting my face with his only a few inches away. The bed isn't that large, after all.

  
It takes a moment for his sternness to dissolve. I've got none of these issues. Having him so close to me finally offers the complete warmth I've yearned for. Warmth, safety and cosiness. Smiling mildly, I sneak my left arm underneath his right, creating a horizontal half-hug. My head follows suit, pressing against his chest. _If only he weren't so uncomfortable, being so close together._

Beat. Beat.  
Beat.  
Beat. Beat.

Finally I feel him relax the tension in his body. Bringing his head closer to mine, I can feel him inhale and exhale into my hair, right hand returning to caressing and playing with it. We go on like this for quite a while. I'm not sure whether he thought I'd fall asleep or not, but once it's clear I'm not going to, he breaks the silence.

"You had all the right to burn me alive, but you didn't," he floods me with disbelief. "You could have just stayed safe here, but you didn't." A continuous wave of hot breath stays in my hair. "How the fuck am I supposed to ever repay you for that, sweetie?"

"You don't have to repay me for anything, Brash. Anybody with any sense of morals would have done the same in my place."

I feel him laugh, but not out of amusement. "Fuck no they wouldn't. Nobody would have done what you did. Everyone would've been cared shitless. But you.." His fingers run deeper into my hair, "You weren't scared when talking to Rivera. You weren't scared when I attacked you. You weren't scared when fighting her alone. You weren't scared off by my bullshit, talking me out of that miserable fucking state." He gently pulls me away from him to look into my eyes, revealing his absolute bewilderment. "You weren't scared of her and basically fucking defeated her on your own," he exclaims, shaking his head.

Before he continues any further, I feel the need to clarify. "Me? Not scared?" I scoff and express the exact same level of disbelief he's giving me. "I was **mortified**. By her, by you, but by **myself** as well; what I was capable of saying and doing," I quick-fire the truths. "But, still.. most of all.. I was scared of never being able to forgive you."

He doesn't respond with words. His expression states the intense sorrow my last sentence caused.

I smirk, if only to help him relax slightly. "You had to do what you did. It was the right thing to do."

Grimacing furiously, he says, "No, it wasn't."

"Yes, it was," I insist. "My life is meaningless compared to those of entire cities."

His disbelief only deepens. Nearly angry with me for what I'm telling him, he barks, "Yours is the only fucking one that matters." Bringing a hand to my cheek, he continues, "Thinking I killed you... I couldn't live with that."

"Stop, Brash.. Don't talk like that."

"I deserved whatever Rivera did. I wished she'd kill me already, but then.." A baffled sigh. "Then I heard you. Just knowing you were alive and escaping would have been enough. But hearing you say you'd return? And trying to pull me out with your tiny cat arms?" He chuckles, "I thought I must have died for real."

I shake my head with weak smile, "No dying anymore, okay?"

Another angry grimace. "You still need to repay me for stabbing you-"

  
No more.

  
I stop him from continuing, pressing our lips together after what had seemed like an eternity of barrenness and drought. At first he doesn't react at all, maybe afraid of giving in. The moment he returns my kiss still wary, I pull away.

"You regret it, right?" I ask determinedly.

"..Of course."

I smile again, "Then I forgive you. You made the right decision anyway."

Stupefied, he glares at me like I've gone mad. "No, I fucking didn't! I put you through so much fucking pain-"

  
I said, no more.

  
Forcing his lips shut with mine, he kisses me back immediately this time. Letting himself go completely, I feel his passion and desire exhibited in the intensity of the wet warmth on my lips. Aggressive attacks befall them, as if we hadn't kissed in a lifetime filled with desperation and our affection was the only cure for it. We both relax so deeply when our kisses keep on going, I honestly feel like I'm going to faint from all the fulfillment surging through me.

Expanding our affection's scope, I move my hands onto his chest, hungrily feeling his rough skin and scars. His imperfect, damaged, worn body excites me more than anything else ever did, sending my mind into a complete frenzy of fervor. He matches the movements of my arms with his, aiming them to my back and pulling our bodies closer. Desiring more and more of him with each passing moment, I lift my left leg and, locking it behind his right knee, press myself against him. Grunting and groaning in response to my actions, I moan in return, revealing just how much I need him.

A flash of sense overcomes Brash. Even though he doesn't push me away, keeping our bodies separated only by clothes, he pulls away from the kiss to speak. Not very far, though. Instead of kissing, we're breathing deeply into our open mouths, ready to reinitiate the fervent display of yearning.

"Bright.. Fuck.. I can't control myself around you," he's barely able to warn me, considering his excited breathing. "We shouldn't be together. We shouldn't do this. I could hurt you."

Planting a few restless kisses on his jaw and cheek while he hardly manages to speak, I purr, "Do you trust me?"

"..Yeah," he admits reluctantly.

I smile and continue kissing him down the neck, "What happened to always saying no?"

He shudders, feeling my tongue on him, "Well, you're the only exception to.. nearly every fucking.. rule of mine."

"Then trust me.. when I say.. I need you more than anything else," I growl into his neck before biting it roughly.   
  


* * *

  
And with a loud growl of his own, he lifts my head up from his neck. His thin, cruel lips assault mine recklessly and brutally. So do his arms and hands, moving from my back to my stomach, clawing at every inch of skin they can find. Even if nearly painful, knowing he wants me and can't keep his hands from me is more than enough to compensate for it. Feeling his tongue searching for mine while his hands move from my stomach to my exposed butt elicits a series of unstoppable moans, only contained by of our unbreakable kiss.

He chuckles in silence as his hands rub my butt and squeeze it violently. Since his left one is somewhat trapped underneath me, his right one seems that much more determined to act dastardly. Without a warning, it lifts up and comes back down in incredible speed, forcing a muffled cry out of me, pushing my left leg even further behind Brash. He uses that opportunity to wedge his own leg between both of mine, coercing my body into involuntarily rubbing on it.

Another couple of spanks land onto my behind, some softer, some shockingly rough. Even my yelps are laced with unbelieavable desire for more. Not disappointing, his hand travels down my behind, fingers finally aiming to where I ache to be touched the most. Once he finds out that there is no more barrier between his hand and my wet, craving area, he immediately pulls the hand away in surprise.

Interrupting our lips' lock for only a moment, he throws me a savage, perverted sneer, "Nothing underneath? You're making it too easy, beautiful."

Postponing the tens of desperate moans by swallowing, I whimper, "I thought you saw it when we.. were crawling under.. the traps."

Gritting his teeth at me, he groans, "Oh you'd have noticed if I knew, **believe me**."

  
I expect him to return to his investigation, but instead he turns me on my back and sits over my legs. Piercing my body with his dark, lustful look, his hands move from my stomach all the way to my breasts as he leans in closer, whispering into my ear, "I love watching you in this fucking dress. But.." He chuckles deviously, "Isn't it about time we got you out of it?"

I exhale so deeply it sounds like another moan. "M-mhhm," I agree with a wordless sound accompanied by a desperate and repeated nod.

Sounding a distorted, sadistic laugh, he bites down on my neck roughly in retaliation to what I did earlier. Before I can express pain through a yelp, he covers my mouth with his left palm, silencing me. Brash growls darkly, "No, no, no, sweetheart. You wouldn't want the others to interrupt us, would you?"

Even though I'm pretty sure they already know from all the noise we created earlier, I don't think further than shaking my head from side to side. A sinister laugh slips through yet another growl, "Good. You're a good little girl." Uncovering my mouth, he plants a few more fierce kisses onto my lips before releasing my left leg, bringing it closer to him in a bent knee.

I become aware of what he's doing too late. Still towering over me, he's holding the dirk in his right hand, having pulled it out of my boot. Seeing the tensed, fearful reaction only triggers another sneer. Leaning in close to my ear again, this time also bringing a weapon with him, he whispers, "Don't worry, kitty girl. I'll play nice." With a snicker, he adds, "For now."

As the dirk nears my throat, I'm starting to honestly get terrified. I assume he means to rid me of the dress like he said before, but still.. I can't command my fear. Alleviating my worries are the avid and continuous kisses he awards my cheeks and ear, almost to the point of causing more sounds of absolute pleasure.

A tear. I gasp out in surprise. Brash snickers into my ear, no doubt thrilled by the development. The dirk is slowly moving down the white, silken dress, starting at its high collar. The more skin becomes unveiled, the further Brash plants the trail of wet kisses. My neck, collar bones, chest - he spends no little amount of time there - and then stomach. Not moving past the belly button with his mouth, he cuts the dress completely in half anyway.

"Thank you for the weapon, cutie. You can have it back now," he gawks at the vertical line of complete exposure while sheathing the dirk again. Moving his arms to my shoulders, he takes the torn dress off me from underneath, exposing me completely.

  
Barely able to breathe, he licks his teeth before saying, "Look at you. So perfect." I pull my, now freed from his hold, legs closer to my stomach and press the tips of the boots against his chest softly, not trying to push him away but trigger a reaction of any kind.

His immediate instinct remains the same; spreading my legs far apart, clasping my thighs and dragging me right to his groin, letting me feel how desperately he wants me through his pants. "Can you feel it? How hard I am for you? How badly I need to fuck you?" he groans, grinding against me as I nod and moan, completely unable to utter comprehensible words.

Yet, he stops and inches away. That is enough to snap me out of my trance temporarily. Looking at him, I throw him an inquisitive look. He smirks cheekily, "Then I hope you'll know just **how much** I appreciate what you did for me." My look changes from inquisitive to worried as his head descends between my legs. _What is.. he doing?_

"Just relax, sweetie," Brash laughs silently. "You'll like this. I promise."

I nod hesitantly before lying down on my back again, trying to 'relax'. He grips my thighs again, preventing me from escaping. _Gods, what the-_ And before I know it, his mouth and tongue caress my nether regions with their warmth, striking me with a completely new sensation.

Every move he makes evokes a differently severe response. Once he finds the ones I react to the most, he repeats them in many different ways. When the rapidity of his movement increases, I begin feeling the same bolts surging through my legs and stomach as previously, before finally arching my back in a spasm filled with deep breathing and moaning.

Leaving my legs with a few more kisses, he reemerges, clearly proud of what he just accomplished. With another trail of wet warmth, this time guided upwards, he meets my still totally disoriented expression. A satisfied smirk is cast down on me. "That good, huh?"

I focus the entirety of my being on regaining control and responding, "Y-yeah.. You.. are incredible."

He laughs heartily, locking our lips for just a moment, letting me taste what rewards his efforts reaped. "I guess I did pretty well, considering that was a first," he chuckles.

"W-what? You've never.. done this with anyone?" I ask, astonished. I thought he had done just about anything with anyone, remembering his adept affiliation with brothels and their employees. "Fuck no. I wouldn't do this for some whore," he exclaims harshly, but returns to ardently showering my neck with his tongue's attention.

I groan, still nearly unable to speak, "So.. Does that mean.. I'm **not** a whore?" I giggle before losing myself again. He halts the affection temporarily and meets my eyes with his. "Of course you're not," he frowns, but smirks at the thought of a different response. "Or at least, you're nobody else's. Mine only."

I return the smirk, "Yours?"

He nods seriously, "Yeah. You're mine," he leans in for a longer, more passionate kiss before growling, "You're fucking mine." 

  
Straightening his back again, he finds himself between my spread legs. I doubt there is enough self-restrain in the entire world to hold him back. Not that either of us wants that. I rub on him to show my desire-filled devotion. Reacting swiftly with a sneer, he finally undoes his pants, letting his throbbing length fall down onto my stomach. 

"Look at what you're doing to me, kitty girl," he means me to take a look, so I do. With a wide expression all around, I finally see just how largely.. endowed.. he is. I can't comprehend how he was able to stuff all of that inside me before.

He chuckles, moving himself over my opening, rubbing it slowly. He pushes only the tip inside before stopping himself, definitely painfully from what his expression tells me. Brash exhales violently, "I fucking want you so much, Bright. I'd fuck you slowly for hours, make you forget your fucking name." Wedging his elbows below my knees, he holds back still, "If only we weren't in this demonic shithole."

I examine his look cheekily, "You'd fuck me slowly? **You**?"

A stern frown. "Yeah. I'd drive it into you nice and slow until you loved me."

A short pause. My cheekiness disappears. I haven't thought of it directly before, but.. "..And if I do already?"

His sternness turns into an amused expression, nearly laughing out, "Yeah, fucking right. I'll fuck you extra hard for lying like that."

  
No time for protests or arguments as he pushes himself inside me, more careful than during our first time together. My eyes roll back into my head as I push clutched fists into the mattress. Not as much in pain as in trying to prevent my loud response. Brash's movements become rougher and faster, most likely losing all restraint. And with that, mine also disappear as the room echoes our voices, mine being the most dominant one.

"Gods," Brash tries to speak between grunting and thrusting, not very successfully. "Your.. tight.. little.. fucking.. hole.." he growls loudly, always increasing his tempo, clawing at my legs in desperation. He wasn't lying about taking me harder than necessary. My insides aren't given enough time to adjust to his size, but it's infinitely easier, more pleasant and enjoyable than when we did it first.

My mind is throwing a complete blank. I'm only able to focus on whatever he's doing to me, and he's doing it exceptionally. His heaving renders me truly senseless. Even after entering me, I can feel him hardening and expanding further, continuously filling my insides. 

Letting my legs fall down, he frees his arms and leans in closer - licking, biting and sucking all over my breasts, totally ensnared by them. This level of attentiveness, combined with his endless thrusting, gets me close to that state of euphoria only he's shown me. In multiple ways. 

Noting my expression and my body's reaction, he ceases the affection on my chest and moves to my lips. "Are you going to.. come again, sweetheart?" he groans in a low, deep-set tone. I nod vigorously, watching him with half-lidded eyes. I see a wide smirk appear. "Want to know what it's like.. getting filled with my cum?"

That question does me in. I moan manically in response. He understands perfectly and, with a few more extremely forceful thrusts, he sends me over the edge. Covering my lips with his in a lustful kiss, he contains both mine and his sounds of immeasurable pleasure. I feel his movements lessen and then stop, foreign warmth spreading through my insides.

  
We spend quite a few minutes on only breathing and regaining senses, Brash having collapsed on top of me. As heavy as he'd normally be, most of his weight is still carried by his exhausted legs. Lifting an arm slightly, I land my hand into his hair, playing around with it. I feel him chuckle and kiss my chest multiple times. 

Raising his head, he meets my joyous expression with his content one. "I can't even fucking think. Your body is just too good," he whispers, breathing ragged, remaining positioned right between my legs. "Well," I smirk, "I can **still** **talk** ," teasing him.

He sneers and affectionately locks our lips together. "You want more, kitten? Love my cock **that much**?" he finally replies with a question.

  
I close my eyes for a moment.

I breathe in.

I breathe out and open my eyes.

  
Shaking my head mildly, I respond, "Y-yeah, but.. that's not it."

He continues his inquiry, kneading my breasts with his right hand, "Love feeling my hands? I can be really, **really** good with them when I want to." He chuckles nearly diabolically.

Shaking my head again, I respond, "I do, but that's not it."

Now raising his eyebrows, he tries again, this time pressing his mouth and tongue against my neck, "Love my mouth and tongue on you? Did they make that strong of an impression earlier?" He laughs before biting me softly several times.

Snickering through a moan and shaking my head once more, I respond, "Of course they did, but.. that's still not it."

Leaving my neck with a kiss, he lifts his head and looks into my eyes with suspense, bringing one hand in to caress my cheek gently. "What is it, then? Don't keep me waiting." Heart beating so fast I can hear it in my head, I tense all my muscles, especially the facial ones. Brash flinches for a second, unsure of what the hells is going on with me.

  
_I know he's got quite the amount of trust issues, being aware of his experience with women in the past. He'd.. never.. say it first. Maybe it would even take him a while to honestly become attached, but.. I'm willing to take the risk. I just can't pretend indifference. Fuck it._

  
I inhale and just.. do it.

"..You," I begin shakily. "It's.. you."

His eyebrows twitch for a moment before he smirks uncertainly, "What?"

I avert my gaze and exhale.  
  


"I.. love.. you, Brash. I love you."

  
Silence.

  
No response. His hand moves away from my cheek rather swiftly.

_That's alright. I expected that. No problem. Stay calm._

Before some insane theory enters his brain again, I continue, "I wasn't joking earlier. I can't help it, I'm sorry. I don't expect you to feel the same. I just needed to say it." Words pour out of my mouth, filling the empty room. At least it feels empty. Brash doesn't even sound like he's breathing.

His hand moves to my thigh, grasping it violently, almost as if relieving himself of frustration in that way. I frown in pain but don't stop him. It's still bearable. Releasing my leg from the grasp, he pushes himself off of the bed, walking off. I don't pursue him with my eyes, only focusing on remaining as calm as possible. _I knew he wasn't ready for it, but.. I had to say it. There was no choice._

Heavy sounds signaling movement reach me from somewhere nearby. I turn my head to investigate, finding out that Brash had shifted the mirror in such a way that I can now see myself. Seeing my confused expression, he chuckles as he shakes his head, lying down on the bed again, pinning me down.

"I can't fucking explain anything, so I need you to just do as I say, okay?"

Anxious, I agree anyway.

  
Lifting me up and positioning me just like he wants, we find ourselves facing the mirror's reflection, me sitting down on his lap - or rather stomach, as he's lightly leaning onto the wall behind us. 

"You see how much I want you, right?" he references his, once again, fully readied length displayed right before my nether regions. "It fucking hurts not being inside you."

I nod reluctantly. _Not.. quite what I meant with love, though._

"Now, if you'd be so kind," he smirks, "take me inside."

I roll my eyes. _Wow, this confession really didn't fucking do anything, did it? Maybe that's for the best_. Either way, I don't really mind complying since I wanted more of his.. attention.. anyway. Slowly descending down onto him, groaning through most of the effort, it's easier to get him inside than before. Honestly, it's because of all the wetness he caused and continues to create still. Feeling him entering me reduces my brain's ability to function properly.

Gently grasping my left hand in his and my waist in the other hand, he lowers my back onto him, providing support as I'm able to watch myself get taken through the reflection. _This is.. weird. New. Completely. Gods, how'd he even think of that?_

"Squeeze my hand when you want me to stop," he exclaims, weaving the fingers of our both left hands together.

_Stop? Why would I want that?_

I try it anyway, just to see what happens. I squeeze his hand in mine and.. he stops. Just like that. Completely and utterly halts all his movement.

I release his hand and he restarts the hungry, ravenous thrusts. I can see him in the reflection, completely ensnared by his own inner demons, own inner desires and lust. Nearly losing my own senses, I manage to clutch his hand again. Another full stop.

A kiss planted onto my back begins his stream of words. "If you tell me to never fuck you again, I won't. If you say you don't want me around anymore, I'll leave. If you want me to protect your big ass with my worthless life, I'll do it." Carefully lowering me onto my side, allowing our faces to meet without the need for a reflection, he continues warmly in a wide grin, "That's how much I fucking love you."

My heart stops when he confesses. I can't believe it. This can't be real. I must be hallucinating. "Y-you.. do?" I whimper, taken aback by his words.

He smiles and caresses my cheek again, "Of course I do, you idiot." A deep, soft, tender kiss. "Of course I love you. You're better than I could have ever hoped for." Another kiss of the same devotion. "My perfect little kitty cat."

  
I'm not very far from crying tears of happiness, honestly. His words.. The confession I was fearing I'd never hear.. I feel like anything is possible with him by my side. Keeping him close, never wanting him to stray from me again, I help supply the endless chain of amorous kisses. They're not as aggressive and vigorous as before. Instead, their mildness and softness conveys the message of true and mutual attachment.

Of course, even though I deeply cherish his gesture, I'd never forgive myself if I left him hanging. And I find myself wanting him as wildly as he desires me. We spend an incredible amount of time making love. Not 'fucking', as he puts it. Brash takes me just as slowly and nicely as he promised, regardless of where we may be. I've never seen this side of him, I wasn't aware it could have existed at all. His past nearly made it seem impossible.  
  


Exhausted from the hours we spent 'excercising' throughout the entire day, we lie down together, his body supporting mine as my head rests over his heart. 

“Why the mirror, though? You could have just.. you know.. told me,“ I say, kissing his chest repeatedly.

He laughs, “Wanted to mess with you a little. And see your reaction to it,“ Brash rubs the top of my head with his jaw. "How'd you like it?"

I laugh while shaking my head, "It was.. new?" Moving up from his chest, I shift my mouth's constant affection towards his inviting lips. "We could.. try it again.. If you want.." I offer in a low growl, licking his lips before pressing them into mine for a quick kiss.

"If I weren't so fucked up still," he gives my butt a tight squeeze, "I'd take you in every fucking way possible, not letting you leave the room."

I chuckle, leaving him with one more kiss before returning my head to his chest. "Enticing offer."

  
Listening to his excited but steady heartbeat calms my frenzied mind. Its drumming and his continuous caressing of my hair puts me into a happy sleep, one I've not had in weeks. Maybe ever.  
  


Our future may be uncertain, but at least I **know** we have one. I know there is hope. I cannot wait to wake up again and discover all I can about the one I love through any hardship that we might encounter.

Whatever may be, whatever may come, we will stand and fight through it together.

I know it.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Source: [Mors] Lightly edited Mamon by Jana Runneck [ Instagram ](https://www.instagram.com/p/BpUWYEVn9sO)  
> [Brash] My own edit of Snow Villers, a screenshot from 1:28 [Lightning Returns Intro; Lightning vs Snow](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x7Qy_jTK74M), the edited picture itself: [Imgur](https://i.imgur.com/XO29OBX.png)
> 
> I didn't want to re-use a picture of the actual Brash, so I searched and figured I could MAYBE make Snow look older.. and.. more fucked up. OHWELL.
> 
> Anyway, another song to complete the setting, once again by [Tom Odell - Can't pretend](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dUmtXzuSGu8), as the name of the chapter reveals, was picked for such reason. Its lyrics fit so well with the emotional breakdown in the lower part of the chapter! 
> 
> Okaaaay, finally it's written! Phew. There should be 2 more chapters, most likely not the same size as this or the previous one lol. They were just very important.


	23. Birds of Colour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following hours after waking up - a more conversation-focused chapter.

Infinity. A blend of colours. Stars and galaxies.

Brash is kneeling in a crouch, holding my nearly lifeless body up, supported by his elevated thighs. White strands of hair that cover some of my vision are sweeped away by his trembling fingers. Liquid stays on my skin as a result of his touch. Thick, red liquid. Focusing on his face is an impossible task. Only his voice keeps me conscious. Soon, even that won't be enough.

"Are you ~~s̴̖̰̄u̶̢̥͊r̵̯͗͐ḙ̵̪͑̾ ̵̩̓ả̷̻̬b̸͙̭͂̚ǫ̷͚̇̓u̴̳͛ṫ̶̙͚͘~~ this?" his shaky voice asks, constantly accompanied by concerned touch. Part of his speech is slurred, veiled and twisted, making it nearly inaudible.

"Absolutely."

" ~~A̶̼̳̜͛̚ñ̴̬͍̅̉d̸̜̾͊͘͘͜ ̵̛̺͋̽̓i̷̥̔͊̈́ͅf̶̥͈̊~~ it doesn't ~~ŵ̵͉͕o̶̺̗̐̀r̸̢̫͘k̸̜̝̆~~?"

I smile, "At least we won't ~~h̷̨͇̋â̶̤v̸͕̞̱͊̆̍ē̸̠̭͍͝ ̸̞̱̎t̸͙̱͉̽o̶̞̦͓̊ ̴̦̓̓̅s̴̯͑ę̶͇̌̌ȩ̶̮̔̑~~.̸̗̓̓." My own voice joins in the twisted sound.

He pulls me in closer. "I'm here. ~~A̶̱͙̰͚̅̾ͅl̷̳̜̠͒͘w̷̳̓̒͌a̶̛͌̕͝y̸̿̌̂̽̏̿s̶͕͚̈̆̒͝~~."

".. ~~A̶̱͙̰͚̅̾ͅl̷̳̜̠͒͘w̷̳̩̯̓̒͌a̶̛͌̕͝y̸s̶͕͚̥̈̆̒͝~~ ," I repeat the noise weakly, voice trailing off into nothingness.

A horror-striking blast. A gargantuan eruption tries to pull us apart but we keep together, merged in an embrace. A clean slate. Silence of emptiness.

***

A few trickles of cold sweat run down my forehead, slowly progressing all the way to my nose and then falling off completely. Foreign, gentle movement over my right shoulder blade beckons me to awake. Reluctant, I bury my face into the harsh bedding and make myself comfortable, following the effort by a monotone, involuntary sound. Gust of hot air carefully descends onto my brow. A light quake tremors underneath me. 

Beat.  
Beat.

"You're so godsdamned adorable," a sweet voice whispers. The soft movements on my back shift to running over my spine. A tame shiver causes my limbs to tremble. "I could watch you all day."

Summoned by the voice, my eyes open and sleepily look up to where the hot breath came from. With a yawn, I find out I slept on a man's chest. Dauntingly wide, scarred but totally breathtaking. _There he is._ Confused at first, I quickly remember exactly how we got into this situation and shoot him an exhilarated smile. "Well hello, Sir," I murmur, still in the process of regaining full consciousness.

A longing look and somewhat at a loss grin recieves my greeting. "Hey there, you little criminal. Slept alright?" Brash asks with intent, possibly because of my usual bodily quivers during dreaming. Mostly nightmares evoke them, but I suppose the dream I was having ended violently enough for me to exhibit the same reaction.

An uncertain frown. "I can't say. I think I had another bad dream. But.." I interrupt the frown and happily shimmy a few inches forward, enough that I'm now able to place my head right onto his neck, "..I woke up to the best one ever," I whisper, throwing my arms beside and above his head.

"I sure hope so." He presses his head into the top of mine, "You slobbered all over me while you slept, not mentioning the cold fucking sweat and freezing as shit amulet." 

Retreating my left arm, I place its palm between our bodies and over the amulet, preventing its gem from touching him. It's unbelievably cold. Raze must have not wanted to see any of our intimacy - **shocking** , I know. Head elevated, I offer an apologetic look, "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

A series of quick chest movements give away his muted laughter. "Whatever. You're worth a frostbite. Loads of them," his hand finds its way behind my head and draws me in for a kiss. One I gladly return. Pulling away slowly, I watch his expression carefully and probingly. So relaxed, so soft, no signs of anger. I can barely recognise him like this, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Even though I fell for who he is usually, this here is a man I can love and rely on continuously and effortlessly.

"What is it, kitten? Regretting your words already?" he teases with a smirk, sweeping white and red strands of loose hair out of my vision. "Never," I reply resolutely in total seriousness. Widening his smirk, more hair becomes secured behind my ears and rested on my back. Revealing the scar over the right eye that Rivera bequeathed to me, his eyes flash heartache of guilt.

  
Fingers hovering over it carefully, he down-heartedly laments, "..All because of me. Forever fucking scarred because of me."

"I'd argue it was because of Rivera, since she's the one who caused it," I attempt to dispel the idea.

He scoffs, "Yeah and who's the cunt that allowed it? You might have forgiven me," he flinches at the word, "but that doesn't mean I feel less guilty about it. Maybe even more."

Leaning into the hovering hand with my cheek, I search his remorseful scowl. "Well.. Do you like me any less with that scar? And the heart scar. And.. I guess the stomach one as well," I list all the scars I've gained since my beheading. All of them connected to Brash's actions; the arena fight and Rivera's treatment.

Emanating distress at the amount of wounds he's responsible for, even though two of those will heal over time, his breathing grows silent but intensified. His hand halts movement. A frown returns some composure. A more determined touch returns to my face, gently placing my head onto the pillow right beside him. My entire being follows suit, lying next to him on a side again, able to observe his entire exposed body. He has the same opportunity.

"Fuck no. Didn't I make it clear to you before we fell asleep?" Brash flaunts his assertiveness and confidence by running fingers down my neck to my cleavage, circling around the scar underneath my bosom. "You're.. perfect. Some fucking scars can't change that." Feeling his own body's signals as his hand starts getting rougher and more desiring, he scowls. Brash pulls a blanket over me, covering my bare body.

"Yeah, I can see that!" I laugh under my breath, trying to conceal the taunt's traces as best as possible. "Covering me up, not wanting to look at the ghastly sight anymore."

"Shut it, you idiot," Brash barks out. "If I looked at you any longer, you'd be pinned to the fucking wall, moaning my name," he growls hungrily with a dark look, not appreciating my jesting whatsoever. 

Shuddering at the aggressiveness of his response, I offer a wide-eyed smile. "S-sorry," I stutter, "I was just.. teasing. I know you were serious."

No more darkness in his look. A smile appears out of nowhere, as if expecting my answer exactly. "Good. 'Thanks for seeing reason'," he mockingly repeats a sentence I responded to him with yesterday. Eliciting amazement and disbelief in my graceless, agape expression, he leaves me wordless. _Bastard. My stupid godsdamned bastard._

Thinking of a sensible and practical answer, I push the subject further, "Alright, if it's 'reasonable', then how come you find it absolutely mind-boggling when I say your scars are attractive?"

As if I just told him the most idiotic thing he's ever heard, a hysterical grimace complements his short-lived but powerful laugh. "You're fucking hilarious, sweetie," he brings his hand into my hair and brushes through it with his fingers. "With an ugly dipshit like me behind the hideous scars, sorry if I find that idea fucking unbelievable."

Seeing it's necessary to explain, I begin with a reminder, "I said I love you."

He narrows his eyes. An uncontainable, confounded smile. "Yeah, so I heard," he tries to keep cool but grins in the end.

"Well," I take a firm stance, "That means I love both the good **and** the bad. You can't have one without the other. The scars are a part of you, so.." Uncovering a hand from underneath the blanket, I run it over his chest scars. "..I love them all the same."

Brash spends a few moments observing my committed investigation. Grinning in capitulation, he places a hand of his over mine, gently repositioning it and grazing different scars he owns with my fingertips. Along the side of his neck.

"Some cunts tried to ambush me late at night. I fucked them up but barely managed to walk into some chapel before dying. Priests weren't too happy when they saw me alive again. Had to cut them down afterwards." This story calls forth a disgusted frown. I'm aware of who he was, or still is, but that doesn't make this any easier. Then again, I suppose if he hadn't done that, all kinds of people would have become aware of his condition, and that could have ended with his body burnt to a crisp.

Before progressing with the show-and-tell, he draws my hand near to his face and plants a kiss into my palm. I beam at his continuous affection, however he chooses to present it. He rolls his eyes mildly, perhaps regretting what he just did, seeing my amorously captivated expression. 

Next, a light scar just under his right clavicula, definitely old, nearly faded completely. "An armor-piercing bolt. Heavy crossbow. That shit hurt to pull out. It got stuck in the bone." A laugh comes as a retaliation to my dismayed grimace.

He stops abruptly. 

"..And the rest is a shitshow done by the cunt," his deep-set voice growls. "Nothing worth worrying you about."

I flinch. _What does that even mean?_ I know what she did to him must have been horrible, but.. he still has so many scars of different shapes and sizes remaining. And that's just his chest. From what I can recall, his back doesn't lack in suffered punishment at all. Interested in knowing everything about him, I move the scar-reading hand on my own, looking up at him, eyes asking for details. A dejected grin. An imperceptible nod.

The scar over his heart. "You know how I got this one," he quickly aims his gaze towards my own, currently hidden, scar of the same kind.

A series of wide but thin scars over his side, nearly claw-like. "She used to test some of her corrupted beasts on me. That's.. as far as I'll bother you with specifics there, sweetheart." _Gods.. Beasts? Twisted crone._

A small, somewhat circular blotch of melted but long-healed skin beside his navel. "Acid shots."

Five entry points all around his abdomen. "Poison-coated weapons."

That's all the noticeable scarring. At least the ones that haven't healed yet. And only on his chest. The lengths to which she went are disturbing. The only saving grace of this situation is the fact that she's dead. She won't be able to hurt anyone like this again. Ever.

  
_Rivera's gone._

  
"Brash.." Raising the hand from his stomach and placing it underneath his arm towards the back, I pull myself closer. Not hesitating, he nears at the same speed and holds me tightly. "..What do we do now that she's dead?"

No answer.

"I can't return to Feline. From what you said about Second and.. Rungari," his fingers claw at my back, "..I was never expected to come back."

No answer. Only deep breathing.

 _Okay.._ "..So, what do we do? Do you think.. you could take me with you to Scarcewall? And I don't mean the palace. I mean anywhere. Anywhere with you."

Pressing his face into my hair, he inhales and exhales eagerly. As if taking its scent in. Hot breaths land on me while he whispers, "I wish I could, sweetheart. I'd love to take you there and show you everything, but.. that won't be possible."

"Why not?"

"Mace knows what you are. A lot of important people do."

"But doesn't he know what **you** are?"

"Yeah, but he couldn-" As if struck by a bolt of lightning, Brash stops himself mid-word. Only moments later does he continue again, less confidently, "..but he kept me around anyway. Knew I'd be useful to him in service. He won't keep a tiny cat girl around."

It's true that the royal family puts a price on any known demonic being's, cultist's or witch's head. I only know of a few exceptions. Orchid and.. Brash, apparently. And since I'm still considered a murderer of Orchid's, I doubt Lord Mace would suffer me in Scarcewall. Either he'd kill me himself or send me to Suntown in a nice coffin.

I sigh defeatedly. "What do we do, then?" I ask, but expand the topic by another question, "Actually, are we going together at all? Or will you be returning to Scarcewall?"

No answer. A painful quiet strangles the air out of the room.

  
_..Oh._

  
His continuous silence speaks louder than words ever could, screaming a recurring pattern: Doubt. His body language, even his spoken language which is where he tries to hide it most, tell of constant uncertainty and suspicion. Perhaps doubting me, my intentions, the future, our chances together or the sincerity of our feelings? I can't say I blame him, but that hardly means I'm not wounded by the distrust. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I suppress despair. "It's alright. I understand-"

He interrupts my speech and stares me down angrily. "If you think I'd leave you like that, you understand fucking nothing about nothing."

"Why didn't you say anything, then?"

"I was trying to think of what the fuck to do, and I still have no clue."

I finally succumb and break off from the stare, averting my gaze entirely. He returns it by lifting my chin and showing the transformation of his glare into a thoughtful look. "I just want you to be safe."

Nodding away, I smile weakly, "I know. But I'll always feel safe with you, wherever it is we go."

He chuckles, "Happy to hear that, cutie," and lets my chin go from his light grasp. "Either way, Scarcewall is a giant fucking 'no', meaning we have to go north of the ruins - go where we came from. Not sure where to exactly, but I don't really have a better plan right now."

"I'll consult Mors. She'll know what's best," I affirm confidently.

Brash doesn't share my belief in that statement. "Best for who? Her?" he frowns, filled with cynicism. "There's no way she's helping you and expecting nothing for it."

Disliking his opinion of her, I make it known by halting the embrace and leaning my head back impulsively. "Don't judge her based on her previous meltdown. She's surprisingly thoughtful once you get to know her," my voice becomes raised by the end of my response.

Taking notice of my retreat and overall defensiveness, he sneers and, regardless of what my efforts were, he pulls me back to himself and kisses me forcefully. Even though I try to push him away at first, I already find myself kissing him back, forgetting all about my irritation. Once my affection reaches a borderline desperate level, Brash draws away from me with a malicious yet amused grin.

Momentarily switching back to seriousness, he continues where he left off, "Just think of what she's done for you already. Who knows what insanity she'll ask in return. She's **still** just some fucking demon whore. Stop trusting her so much."

Even though I find it particularly difficult to focus on his words after that passionate attack, I understand their meaning. And he's right. At least about the fact that whatever Mors wants may not be very pleasant. I nod, eyelids languid. "Okay, I see your point."

"That's my good girl."

  
No more seriousness - all just grinning and looks full of indecent intentions. "Enough about this shit for one morning. Let me enjoy having you all to myself while I can."

I nod again. Brash leans in closer to conquer my lips once more, but I stop him half-way. He shoots me a confused and maddened glare, clearly upset by my reaction. I smirk diabolically. "Do you know how much I love feeling your lips on mine?"

His glare turns more confused than irritated. "Clearly not enough, you fucking bitch." 

My smirk widens and turns into a devious grimace. Retreating my hands from his chest and neck, I take the blanket in them and tug it behind my back, completely uncovering myself. Taking his stunned hand into mine, I bring it over my lips, kissing his fingers. Definitely staggered by my sudden forwardness, he makes no move of his own and speaks instead, "You want it that bad, kitty girl?"

I nod eagerly, licking his fingers in addition. 

"Fucking hells... You know if you continue, you're never getting rid of me?"

"Then you leave me with no choice.. Sir," I whisper softly, taking two of his fingers into my mouth, just like he wanted from me before. I can feel and see his entire body sudder as his eyes roll back into his head. "Holy fucking-," Brash groans viciously before pushing himself up from the bed, dragging me along in his arms. 

"Okay, you asked for it, you fucking brat," he growls into my ear as he turns me around, making me kneel in front of a wall he's pressing me against face-first. "I warned you," I hear his pants becoming undone. "I better hear how good my cock feels, or I won't reward your provocation again," Brash threatens in a hoarse groan right into my ear. As if that's a threat he could ever hold himself to keeping.

I nod anyway, already letting a moan out as he rubs eagerly between my legs. Holding my arms behind my back, he presses a hand into one of mine, giving me the option of stopping him again. It's the acts that matter with Brash the most. Not his words. That's likely why almost nobody can stand him when they meet him first. _Oh well, leaves more of him to me._

"Ready to have your little hole fucked again, sweetie?" he asks, biting my neck and back in anticipation and barely-contained lust.

"All yours."

He laughs as if through gritted teeth and growls, "That's fucking right. You're all mine."

***

Spending several minutes just lying on the bed, looking at each other and calming down, I decide it's likely a good time to dress up and find Mors. Carefully stepping over Brash and landing my feet onto the ground, I make my way towards a clothing cabinet located right behind the nearby mirror.

"What are you doing, kitten?" Opening the cabinet's doors, the search for something suitable begins. "Since you tore the dress apart," I glance at him sheepishly, "I need to find myself something else to wear."

Looking over the available selection of clothing, it becomes clear that I only ever wore dresses in Feline. _How absolutely impractical._ I owned a few pairs of pants, but those are still in my room at parents' house. Right now my options consist of short and long dresses and nightgowns. I pick a dress that would hinder me the least - no puffy skirts, no long sleeves, no ribbons. 

Brash also gets up from the bed and watches me keenly as I put the dress on in front of the mirror. A simple floral dress long enough to reach my knees, hanging off my shoulders by thin straps.

"You look great." 

I smile into the reflection at him, "Thank you."

A mischievous grin curves his lips. "But.." he begins, walking right behind me and pressing himself against my back, "..you know what you'd look even better in?" Not offering a moment for an answer, he crouches and, pressing his hands against my bare thighs, he slowly lifts himself up, taking the dress with him.

Standing straight again, the dress pulled up completely and held right under my neck, he whispers into my ear, "Nothing at all." With my naked body on display, I stare at him in surprise and giggle, "You're so bad!"

"Oh, no," One of his hands makes its way down towards my cleavage, mauling it. "I'm the fucking worst," he bites the ear he's been whispering into gently, his hand swiftly moving to my butt, landing a powerful enough slap to elicit a yelp.

"Yeah, you are! But I can't walk around naked, can I?"

"Not here, that's for fucking sure," his demeanor changes as he lets the dress fall down again. "This is for me only." Pressing my waist closer to his from behind, he warns darkly, "Anyone touches you, they're dead. I don't care who they are." I squint at him in a clearly satisfied way through the reflection. Even though being difficult about it at first, he allows me to turn around and face him directly. "I better be, you big, irresistible bastard."

A craving, somewhat angry kiss sets sail to my thoughts. I can feel my dress being lifted up again as his hands hold it right above my butt. "Sweetheart, you need to cover yourself underneath the dress, too," he explains the severity of this request by running fingers down my butt and right between my legs. "I might never let you out of here if you don't." _It's impossible to say what exactly it is about him, but his voice and touch break all of my inhibitions and resistances, reaching parts of me I didn't know existed._

I press myself wantingly against his fingers. He chuckles, "Who's being 'bad' now, huh?"

I whisper, "Only for of you."

***

And there goes another hour. I can't say how much time exactly we spent in the room, but it still feels like not enough. His insatiable hunger for me only fuels my restless passion for him. It's possible the novelty of it all stands the reason behind it, but that hardly matters. All I know is that I can't imagine spending a second without him again.

When we manage to reassemble, I make my way to the mirror with brush at the ready, urgently fixing the absolute mess of my hair. Quite the jungle has become of it over the course of one night, no little fault of Brash's, that's for sure. When it's returned to order, he asks me to not use any ribbons. To my inquiry for the reason, he responds, "I love your hair loose." Happy to oblige, I let it hang freely.

Having put his black shirt back on, we both stand as covered as possible. I look absolutely mad - a colourful floral dress in combination with knee-high white leather boots with weapons stashed inside them, and a military bag hanging over a shoulder. Brash is wearing a full ensamble of black clothing rather revealing around the chest, but I doubt he cares. 

"We look insane."

He laughs, "We should head to the ruins again and pick our shit up."

I nod, "Agreed."

  
Exiting the chamber, two familiar figures turn their faces in our direction. Raze and Ari, both staring daggers at us. Well, at least Raze is. I suppose Ari is trying her best to mimic his expression, seeing as she looked at him first beforehand. They're both standing behind a massive, wooden chest, one I haven't noticed here before.

"Finally mustered enough strength to halt your constant fornication? Like two raging animals," Raze hisses us but glares only at me, as if our actions offended him greatly. Well, we **are** in his home, technically. _We probably should have kept it down a bit._ Brash takes his comment too personally and retaliates in a savage bark. "Jealous your little witch isn't sucking your cock yet, you goat shithead?" 

Of course, Raze expected nothing else out of him. Chuckling, he ignores his comment and addresses me instead, "You chose **that** creature? Honestly? How pitiful, especially for you, darling."

"The fuck did you call her?" Brash spits out murderously.

 _Uh-oh._ Knowing how powerful Raze is, it's clear he's trying to provoke Brash into a rash decision, which would likely end in his defeat. And knowing the extent of Brash's patience, he's definitely going to succeed. 

Another twisted chuckle. "We were **very well** acquainted with each other after I rescued her. Please, remind me, where were **you** when she desperately needed help?" Raze keeps a sly grin on all the while shooting poisonous words.

"Raze, stop with your-" I attempt to defuse the situation but Brash throws me a look and gruffly commands, "Stay out of this!" Startled by the suddenness of his reaction, I don't find any words to respond with for the moment. His attention quickly shifts back to Raze, "You save her once and think she belongs to you? Thought we made it clear to everyone here that she's **mine** ," he refers to our love-making surprisingly indirectly.

"Oh, don't worry, she's just temporarily confused," Raze retorts confidently, "After all, I saved her more than a couple of times. Most notably right before departure for the 'mission'. Your ruthlessness left my darling heart-broken, hysterical and completely unable to breathe - that's how **she** put it, at least."

Brash doesn't respond to him. Turning to me, he asks quietly, "Is that true?"

Lips pursing in aversion, thinking about that moment of horribleness, I whisper, "Yeah. What you said really hurt. I couldn't even get up, thought my heart would stop beating." Brash drops the savage grimace. Taking a step closer and embracing me gently, as if to not break me, he sighs while I return the hug, "I'm sorry, sweetie. I tried to convince myself that I didn't give a shit. And to make you hate me to feel less guilty. Didn't fucking help at all, couldn't handle it for even a day."

"I know, Brash," I continue reassuring him, "I know. I'm not letting you push me away again. I know you won't mean it."

He snorts, "You're too smart for your own good."

  
"Ahem," Raze clears his throat to interrupt us, seeking our attention. I can feel Brash's throat growling and grumbling voicelessly. Leaving one arm tightly secured around my side, he turns to face Raze again. " **What!** "

"Masterfully done, my sweet. You've truly enthralled this beast to do your bidding, haven't you?"

"Raze," I start, tone hardened. "I'm honestly grateful for all the help you've lent me. But I care for him." Raze's expression tenses while Brash's turns smug. "I know he isn't perfect. Or good at all, really. But he's a part of my life now. If you want to be a part of it as well, like Orchid wanted, you need to deal with him, too."

Snarling at my words, he menaces, "..For now."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean, dickhead?" Brash joins in again. Raze mocks, "You couldn't possibly comprehend the reasons even if I spelled them out to you." Insulted by his constant remarks, Brash retreats the arm from around me and takes a few confident steps towards him. "Someone needs to shut you the fuck up," he radiates wrath before-

  
"What is the meaning of this?" a voice thunders through the chamber. Brash is thrown back towards where I'm standing, managing to keep up on his feet. The voice's owner emerges from a nearby room. "Would you two kill each other without hesitation?" Brash and Raze both seem like they want to answer, but Mors stops them with a raised palm. "Do not waste words. You choose to use the sliver of time we possess on meaningless conflicts." Speaking to me, she lays out the plan, "Take the chest. Bring the warrior. We train once more before your departure."

"Bring.. where?" I inquire. She clearly doesn't mean this room, even though this is where we trained before. Mors points towards a wall. No entrances or anything at all. _Right, that doesn't-_ Suddenly, a corridor begins materialising. A hallway. There's a massive room at the very end of it. Done with casting, Mors lowers her arm and adds, "The chest bears your armor and equipment. The demonspawn brought it."

We glance at Raze in surprise. 

_Thank you._

He looks away with a dejected frown. _**"** It's hardly worth a mention. Forget it."_

Mors continues, "Dress in the training hall and wait for me. There's something I must do here, first." Returning my attention to her, I nod resolutely.

  
Not responding anymore, she begins drawing symbols in the air. A blue and yellow symphony of complicated spells. Each time one symbol is drawn, Mors sends it flying, planting it somewhere - the ground, ceiling, walls. Choosing not to interrupt her, me and Brash approach the chest. Raze backs off and walks away, Ari chases after him in short-distanced pursuit. Once we clasp the chest securely enough, we carry it into the spacious training hall.

It's already equipped with various weapons, armors, obstacles, dummies and targets. "For the love of fuck, what kind of a witch is she?"

"Not a witch. Just a.. near-godlike-but-still-subdued-in-current-form being."

He laughs out sarcastically, "Okay, yeah, that's much fucking better."

Letting the chest down, we open it excitedly. Mors was correct - the chest contains all of my armor, Brash's armor, clothes and sheaths. Of course, his sword remains broken after what Mors did. Perhaps he won't mind having to use a different, same-sized sword? It's a slow process, putting all of our armor on again. Brash makes absolutely no effort to not gawk or touch me as I become exposed in various ways. At least I did put underwear on. In the end, we stand fully outfitted again.

I look his armor over carefully before feeling it with eager hands. "O' my arrant, brave knight of heart. 'Doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt that the Sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt my love.' "

Brash stares at me, baffled to his core. "What in the name of fuck was that?"

I laugh out heartily, "Nothing, sorry about that," and hug him tightly. I confused the hells out of him, he doesn't know how to respond properly. Perhaps he's wondering whether I just cast some spell on him. A curse, maybe? That thought elicits another laugh out of me.

"..You alright there, kitty girl?" he asks, finally hugging me back.

"Never better."

_Let's see what Mors has in store for us._   
  



	24. Weakness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Practising in Inferno

Slash.

"Aim not with your sight, but with your mind," Mors elaborates while I attempt to strike various dummies with a controlled dagger consecutively and without casting more than a glance towards them.

When Mors entered the room about an hour ago, hair hung loose and free of the braid, the very first thing she did was throw Brash his broken sword. Or, rather, previously broken sword. Of course, as expected, he reacted harshly. As he affirmed in my confidence, he doesn't trust her actions without the knowledge of her motives. After he threw the sword back, she reassured him that reforging it bore no additional price. 'A token of propitiation, lest we despise one another absent purpose.' He reluctantly accepted the gesture and the gift that came with it.

"Envisaging the precise location, position, size and distance of your target is all your mind needs to allow a true and swift strike," she continues as she guides me at operating both weapons at the same time, still visibly shaky in such control.

Once Brash recieved the, for the third time, thrown sword, remaining cautious throughout its collection, he seemed to take a break with the constant rigid posture. I assumed wielding his greatsword again supplied him with much-needed comfort. Recognising that as a sign of appeasement, Mors approached us and spoke shortly of what she meant to do in the remaining hours of our stay. 

"Think not of them as individual objects. Think of them as parts of you. A set of new limbs. As untroublesome as you percieve your arms' movements, so must you percieve your weapons. Remove thought and act by nature," she clarifies, interpreting control in a way I've not thought of before. Her guidance eases my efforts considerably. 

I questioned her about the events that went down the previous day. My interest fell to her surprising breakdown and also the braid she had woven; one resembling mine. Her answer came not through the usage of words. Hearing her voice in my mind, similarly to how me and Raze communicate through the amulet, she explained: "I was reminded of what no longer is. Showed weakness I had nearly forgotten about." Even though that answer gave no information, I dared not press further.

"Heed your surroundings. Use everything to your advantage. The soil, weather, objects, atmosphere, emotions, and most importantly, the nature of people," another lesson follows. 

Having beckoned me to approach, me and Mors found ourselves in the middle of the room while Brash leaned on a wall, observing us. His aggression may have subsided, but the distrust in her was still present. We began with a simple showcase of my newly expanded control ability. Later on, we moved onto the aforementioned target practice, attempts at controling both daggers and, presently, she has just finished simplifying such control successfully. Both daggers hover obediently, awaiting command.

  
Weeks ago, Raze refered to my acquiral of Mors instead of Sorin for tutoring as a downgrade. I find myself opposing that comment increasingly with each passing opportunity. The thorough dominion over her abilities and powers leaves both me and Brash in shock as she presents the dance of death once more. Weapons of various kinds spin and twist around her, creating an aura of deadly menace, both in threatening offense and fortifying defense. She needs not her arms to guide them. Her mind does this all on her own.

"Even though you may not be able to command this level of power," she speaks coldly over the whooshing sounds of cut air, "you may learn a close enough replication." She pauses for a thought. "However, I venture to impugn its merits. Cast your focus on wits rather than sovereignty of onslaught."

Brash speaks out of turn, baffled in tone. "What the shit did she just say?" he asks crudely. A glare of hers and mine meet him, the one I'm presenting considerably softer.

"She's saying I'm better off using my brain, like you so very elegantly pointed out many times before," I smirk jovially, "rather than relying on brute force." Returning my glance towards her, I insist, "But I doubt we'll have that kind of an option very often."

Mors nods gravely, "Correct. Still, let the warrior do as he does best." The blades that have been guarding her vicinity halt steady in the air, awaiting orders as her attention shifts to Brash. "Approach. It is time for you two to demonstrate your conjoined efforts."

As she points to the spot she's standing at, she retreats to the very end of the room - approximately twenty feet distant from said spot. Brash stands there now, facing me some ten feet away, greatsword at the ready, leering at me zealously. I can almost feel the burning red passion for battle flaring in his eyes. Having seen it so many times before, it's clear now whence it stems.

  
"You ready, 'tiger'?" 

There it is again. That godsdamned, ludicrous name. It compels an interested rise of eyebrows.

"Back to that name, are we?"

"Well, I could tell you how beautiful you are instead, shoving you to the ground in the meantime," he fleers. 

I chuckle, relishing our back-and-forth thoroughly, "Would you still call me beautiful if I shoved **you** to the ground, wiping that obtuse grin off your face?"

A quick, alluring glance up-and-down my figure reveals his desire as he laughs out in near-mock amusement. "Oh, sweetheart," he mutters sweetly, leaning forward a notch without shifting his feet's position, "I doubt that's ever fucking happening, but I'd love to see you try with those silky little hands of yours." 

"I bet they're capable of making you yield voluntarily."

Shortening the grin's width, he transforms it into a modest curve conveying ulterior motives. "Is that so?" he quickly licks his bottom lip, "Come here, then. Let's test that theory, kitty cat." The passion searing his voice assures me of possible victory. I've not beaten Brash yet. His prowess in arms of various kinds remains obvious. I doubt I can ever best him in single combat.

No more taunts and jabs. No more glances of the same spirit. As I step forward, prepared to take guard and advance, I'm swiftly yanked out of that goal by a collision with an invisible field, pushing me back to my previous position. A stern voice sounding from behind Brash bids us both to twist towards it.

  
"Fools," her eyes narrow, "you will not be fighting each other. What fruits would such nonsense produce here?" Mors questions derisively.

Puzzled, I ask with a shrug, "Then what did you have in mind?"

An answer arrives in physical rather than verbal form. As she raises her arms, a dozen of dark, faceless figures rise with it, surrounding us in a circle. The same way I witnessed her materialise soldiers in my dream. 

"What the fuck is **this** now?!" Brash bares his feelings about the turmoil. Her actions prompt us to close the distance between us, backs pressed together, watching the creations warily. A dozen of replicas, each with its own mind and will by the looks of it. Each carries a sword in the exact same manner.

"Since your partnership is likely to continue, you must exploit such a union and cooperate."

The foes all take one step forward, tightening the circle.

  
"Isn't their amount rather excessive?" I ask her, voice quivering. "Shouldn't we practise against a few at first?"

"This amount would have been enough for the warrior alone. With you, however, a new-found weakness presents itself. One I am interested in witnessing play out."

Brash grows increasingly anxious. I can hear his sword's blade cutting the air harshly, threatening the shadowy figures. 

"Can they honestly hurt us?" I implore for more information. I can't imagine Mors desiring our pain, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't expect it.

"Death **is** a possible outcome. But since I wish your hearts to remain in their respective ribcages, there is no consequence to failure. Apart from the grevious and miserable wounds you would suffer. After all, these beings are forged from a hell's essence."

_Oh, well that's-_

"Well that's just fucking great!" Brash grumbles the same thoughts I'm having.

They take yet another step. One more and they will reach us with their blades. 

As Brash's angst reaches a high enough level, he turns and spins me by my arm, causing me to land right into his chest. His left arm entwines around me, clutching me tightly even through my protests. He groans, "Fuck this bullshit," and fearlessly charges sideways inbetween two foes, his sword sweeping theirs aside, clearing the path.

  
Forcing our way through the circle, we find ourselves on its outside now, not thanks to my efforts whatsoever. My struggle for release and lending hand falls on deaf ears. Brash is taking it upon himself to guard me, gripping my torso closely, barely allowing movement as he continues our retreat step by step. 

"Let me go already! I can help!" I plead, closer to sounding angry than frantic, as I probably appear. _Does he doubt my ability **this** extensively? I thought he'd know better. He even acknowledged my victory over Rivera before._

He reluctantly relaxes the hold but doesn't allow me to stray far, only right beside him. I turn to face our foes with long-readied weapons in a guard, joining Brash in his efforts. The figures break their circle and form a wide frontline, each standing side by side, further movement halted. We stand face to face with them. Two facing twelve. Not very favourable odds, but she said Brash would normally have no issue facing them. _Shouldn't it be easier with us both put to the task?_ Such a thought is swiftly cast from mind.

"Stay behind. Don't get in the way," he snarls, glaring at the figures with eyes blazing bright red, head turning from left to right.

As I begin words of protest, he silences them by shoving me backwards, causing stumbles which eventually lead to me falling over. This period of time is not wasted; his strikes start landing the moment I exit the picture. A few of the figures succumb to his sword, vanishing into thin air. He's successful in dispatching most of the force. But-

"Fool! Remove emotion!" Mors commands imperatively. Raising an arm once again, she summons the fallen foes back to life, diminishing Brash's ceaseless efforts into nothing. "This trial's purpose lies **not** in discovering your own power, but your conjoined ability to fend off attackers."

Regardless of the increasing number of foes slain, they continue reappearing. _He can't withstand this forever. She won't stop conjuring them. I must help, whatever his opinion on that matter._

  
Standing up from the ground, shaking off pains the impact sent through my body, I quickly assess the situation. Brash is keeping only a few of the foes near at one time, not allowing massive disadvantage. As he cuts them few down, more approach. I doubt a single combat would ever exhaust him as badly, but keeping track of a dozen constantly threatening opponents can't compare.

 _She said this training is a test of our ability to work together. So far I'd say we're failing. Perhaps if I join in, she'll stop resummoning the foes?_ Since that is the only theory available, I waste no time and throw myself against the figures waiting their turn to fight Brash.

Adapting the same strategy as he is, I let only a few near me. An easy goal paired with the gift of speed. A few cuts are made to my arms - nothing worth the attention. I manage to get behind one of the figures and deliver a fatal wound to the back of the neck. Its body dissolves into thin air. No new foe replaces it.

_Eleven, then._

"At last, you understand," Mors exclaims in disappointment, even though her words speak of approval. 

I can't respond. My attention remains on the enemies. Three more fall by Brash's hand. I manage no more fatalities. Though I wouldn't call that a fault of mine. When Brash notices me fighting, he charges through his own opponents and sweeps mine aside, offering a moment's respite. Only in the manner of physical confrontation, that is. 

  
"I said **stay fucking back** , you dumb cunt," he growls viciously, his robust back preventing me from seeing what's happening.

_Idiot!_

At first, I try to make my way around him, but since he expects that, I'm quickly held in place by my wrist. As the figures slowly engulf us in another threatening circle, I thrash around, "Let me help! If we don't do this together, she'll keep-"

"Shut your fucking mouth! I can do this alone."

"No you can't!" I persist.

They approach and stand still only a few feet away, awaiting Mors's 'go' sign. She watches intently, troubled by the showing.

Brash's grip on my wrist tightens, nearly painful now. "I'll handle this alone! You're only a burden here," he says with a serious tone, not giving me any reason to doubt his belief in such a statement.

It takes me a second to process what he just said. Baffled, I rant, "How can you say that?! We're supposed to do this to-"

Turning around swiftly, he shoves me away again, almost resulting in another fall. I hold myself up by a nearby dummy. Stern look expresses his confidence in the conclusion that I mustn't fight alongside him. _Does he honestly think me so inapt, presenting only difficulty in battle?_ His look remains for only a moment more. Another turn. Another swing aimed at the foes' heads. He would have cut them all off, but.. they disappear before the blade finds its targets, vanishing into thin air. As the swing misses, his entire body spins out of control and collides with another nearby dummy.

  
Resolute steps approach quickly. "Failure. Total and utter one," Mors pesters us. "How do you expect yourselves to match true opposition? Had I not held them steady, you would have both been lying dead." She stops the approach a few feet away from us both, examining me only shortly before glaring furiously at Brash. He's recovered from the stumble and stands tall again.

"Your ignorance of circumstances baffles me beyond measure. Is allowing a partner to fight with you such a foreign concept?" she scolds him like a child. 

And he reacts like one, pressing the feud further, "I'm more than capable of handling anything that's fucking stupid enough to take us on. **Alone.** "

She reserves a few seconds to continue her glare before laughing out manically. _There's just no in-between with her, huh?_ "Alone? Truly?" she shoots him a look I've not seen on her before. Nearly.. caring? This observation forces me into a frown. _What the hells is her game here?_ Paying no mind to me, she continues in the same manner, "Do you believe yourself capable of challenging **me** then?"

Possibly understanding her question as a threat, he raises the still gripped sword, pointing it at her, "I wouldn't go against a demon like you for no reason. But if you give me one, you best fucking believe I'm not letting you fuck me up without a fight."

Changing the manner of her glare from seeming affection into puzzlement, she returns to her previous point. "If you fight alone, you will both die. Is such a fate your desire? Being the cause of hers and your deaths?" A flinch betrays Brash's posture of authority. He gives no response, only a grimace telling of his internal conflicting thoughts. Mors glances at me, assessing my state. Back at him again. Shaking her head lightly, she takes a step back, turning away from us.

  
"You are **both** fools," she murmurs lowly.

 _Me?! What did **I** do wrong?_ Taken aback by her statement, I gasp out, "What could I have done differently? He would not let me help!" I take a stand, asserting my beliefs firmly. She remains turned. The response instead comes from Brash. He snorts before snickering sharply, "Help? As if I needed it. I had it under control before you butted in," speaking as his arms become crossed, sword held underneath the entwinement.

Since she's giving us the space, most likely intentionally, I shift my full attention to him and continue the argument we began earlier. "'Under control'? The fact that their numbers stretched infinite didn't bother you at all?"

"She'd have grown tired of that shit soon enough," he replies stoutly, unwavering in the assumption. I only manage to stare at him in disbelief; a look filled with astonishment and marvel at his disregard for all reason. ".. **That's** your argument for not letting me fight with you? An Inquisitor growing 'tired'?"

Noting my mocking tone and glare, his anger gets the better of him. "So fucking what?"

I laugh shortly, amazement holding strong, "So what? What kind of a response is **that**?"

"Who fucking cares! I don't give a shit what you say, nothing will change the fact I fight alone. Always have and always will," his voice boils, balled fists pressed into his chest. 

Observing the reaction, I lean my hands into my sides for support. "Alone," I repeat, nodding definitively, the notion of the very word shaking me. "Is that how you woke up? Is that what you want? To be alone? Fight alone so I don't 'burden' you?" As I say one word after another, I can feel my stomach compressing and twisting; imagining what I'm describing causes more stress than the entire battle.

My words strike a delicate chord. That much is clear from the reaction. Appearing staggered, his face warps into various shapes and severity of emotions. Anger makes way for uncertainty as his eyebrows tense in a fierce curve. "What are you trying to say? Is that supposed to be a threat?"

The amazement I've been displaying swiftly turns into worry. _A threat? Did it.. come off as one? Oh, great, just what this clash needed._

My arms drop from the sides. Open palms underline the very lack of any threat I mean to convey. "I didn't intend it as a threat. I expressed a genuine question," I reiterate. My previous anger flutters away rather suddenly, replaced by fear of his misunderstanding. "If you don't want me near you when our lives are at stake, how am I to believe you trust me?"

That answer comes as a susprise. His frown relaxes - only a stern look remains now. "What's trust got to do with any of this?"

"You didn't trust me to be useful. You didn't want my help. Saying I'm a fucking burden when you reassured me of the opposite in the camp," I remind him, revealing my perception of the situation.

He snorts and relaxes his whole posture considerably, as if what I had just said sounds comical. "Well, you weren't a burden then. You sure are now."

"What the fuck, Brash?" I share my absolute disbelief at his harsh words.

A portion of his seriousness returns in the form of another frown. "You fucking dumbass, I was only trying to protect you. I don't want you to fight. That's **my** job," he attempts excercising power to guard me from danger, almost commanding in tone. Unfortunately for him, I intend to face danger whether he wants it or not.

"Why did I hear none of this in the ruins before confronting Rivera? What's different between then and now?"

He pauses before responding in a whisper, "Everything is different," continuing on in loud enough voice for me to hear clearly, "I thought we were honestly going to die, so I didn't fucking care that much. Now, though.." Meeting my expectant eyes, he says, "Now I do."

As glad as I am to hear he cares enough to take on a dozen enemies alone rather than allow harm to befall me, that on its own poses a problem. He can't fight everybody by himself. "And I don't?" I throw the same reason back at him, mirroring the crossed arms on chest. "I don't want to lose you." Hearing me say that brings his smirk out. "But for that, we need to fight together." And the smirk evaporates. "I'm not totally incompetent. You trained me, after all. Don't tell me you doubt your own ability," I cheekily try to manouver him into recognition.

Even though he sees through the attempt, he offers no retaliation. No response at all, actually. He only has a brief time period to act anyway. Our drawn-out argument which bears no resolution is brought to an end by Mors. When she finally turns around, revealing the bothered, perturbed look, she walks towards us, closing the short distance.

  
"The issue you two have come across is not one of trust," she interprets the situation for us, putting us in our places with her piercing gaze. "It is one of **weakness**. Weakness caused by a fear of failure, as clearly demonstrated. Ironically, it is this weakness that will bring upon you exactly what you fear."

I mean to inquire into how we may overcome this obstacle, how we can learn to rely on each other, but I'm not able to speak. Or move at all, really. I suspect the same goes for Brash. A raised hand of hers assures me of that. "You two have spoken enough," her unthreatening voice declares. "Now you must **listen**. Only a shred of time remains and I shall spend it on providing counsel, **uninterrupted** ," she menaces, implying imminent danger. Uncertain of the meaning behind her remark, a modest amount of dread surges builds. I try to pay as much attention as possible, though. Her advice has not lead me astray yet.

"Up until this point, she and you have faced considerable danger," she addresses Brash only, her piercing glare mellowing into a thoughtful stare. "A corrupted bear. A handful of worgs. A treacherous soldier. The Serpents. The twisted witch. All of these foes - passed." She throws me a quick glance, "In one way or another."

As her glance travels towards Brash once more, she resumes, "The vital portion of these feats was enabled purely by your cooperation. If this simple truth eludes you.." she nearly growls into his face but remains composed, "..you will stand the sole reason for your shared demise."

  
"Refuse help - you both die."

"Defy reason - you both die."

"Fight alone - you both die."

  
"Your weakness of heart endangers the both of you equally. See it transformed into advantage." She leans in closer and emphasises a phrase: "Mukh'pal Krav." _..Huh?_ That doesn't sound like.. anything. I can hardly even imagine it in writing. _What did she just say? And how would Brash even know what that means? He can hardly communicate efficiently in common tongue._

"All those you have faced cannot compare to the grave dangers that await still. The dead witch will seem an incompetent foe soon enough." Her palm descends. Feeling returns to my body. Heavy breaths flood the room. "Are my words plain enough for you, warrior?"

He gives no reply. I remember his reaction last time she took control over his body rather vividly. A sword became shattered, luckily nothing more followed. Dropping arms away from his chest, stabbing the sword into the ground, he sounds a threatening ring of metal over stone. 

_Please, for the love of Gods, don't do anything stupid, Brash._

A violent exhalation, his nostrils flare up. "Yeah," he lets out lowly, "I get it." His body straightens, posture stiffens. "Doesn't mean I'll do any of that shit. I've got everything under control." Mors shakes her head, astonished, "How is such ignorance even achievable? A true warrior you are - mind set only to battle and brutishness."

Brash changes the subject, likely not wishing to discuss it further, "What's with this 'warrior' bullshit all the fucking time? I'm a **knight** , you fuc-" I shoot him a quick look of caution. He stops himself before an insult can be spoken. "..fucoid wretch." With an astounded twist in expression I announce my surprise at his interesting choice of words.

"Your mortal titles bear no meaning, fool," she speaks to him as if to a subordinate. "A red peasant or lord both remain warriors the same. None can hope to escape their ingrained temperament. It is your fate as followers of Nevon's path - a lifetime of battle, blood and bane." I wince. _That almost sounds like a warning._

"And who the fuck is that supposed to be?"

Mors bursts into a single, sharp but controlled laugh. Suddenly - she pauses abruptly. No words spoken. No laughs sounded. Her gaze shifts frantically from one wall to the other. Nothing found. She continues again, tone and movements increasingly wary. 

"You cannot possibly think I would even consider such a suggestion. His intentional association with you stands clear," she insists, firm in her belief.

They bicker on while I give thought to this name business on my own. Come to think of it, all Sorin, Raze and Mors ever called him was 'warrior', apart from insults of course. If this name stems from the kind of a demonheart he is, what are the titles of others? What title do pales-

  
The floor shakes beneath our feet powerfully enough to split it open if given time. Even though startled by the suddenness of it, Brash grasps composure. Sheathing the sword, he takes a step towards me. Arm thrown around my back, he quickly shoves my weapons into my bag to prevent accidental wounds.

A deep sigh comes from Mors. "It is time, then."

She wastes no breath on explanation. A barrier is quickly raised around me and Brash; small enough to prevent movement but large enough to allow observation of surroundings as we're locked in the embrace. Abruptly, the barrier becomes engulfed by mist. Not red or blue like I witnessed previously, but of shadows and smoke, suffocating all light and air. Before we even realise it, the mist falls and we find ourselves in the main chamber, right in front of the portal. Mors stands on the other side, opposite of us. More spells are cast as the shelter quakes, similarly to what she caused during mine and Brash's arrival. 

Two more barriers appear to each of our sides. Once the mist falls from them, they're revealed to contain a shocked Ari and a furious Raze. I can see their mouths moving, Ari even seems to be casting spells, but to no avail. Nothing can be heard, no spells make impact. 

As Mors keeps her arms elevated, visibly trembling and strained, she focuses her gaze towards Brash. He returns it. Her lips part, as if mouthing off words. So do his. They both seem to be having a soundless conversation - a communication through minds. She nods. He pauses but a vigilant nod follows promptly.

The quaking halts. Furniture stops quivering. A painting falls, sounding the end of the menace. I throw Brash an inquisitive look, interested in knowing what Mors had told him. The look he repays me with offers no answers, only angst. Whatever she said couldn't have been good. Either way, I relax. Since the shelter trembles no longer, I don't see a reason to stay on full guard. Though, when I study both Brash and Mors, it's clear something is still wrong.

The cause of the quakes remains unclear. Not for much longer.

  
As I inspect her intense stance and unrelenting barrier casting, a swirl of madness occurs behind her. A foggy cloud of darkness drops down from the ceiling. Whatever it's carrying descends heavily to the ground, landing steadily and precisely. Like a vision from the worst nightmare, a dark-red-haired demonic figure emerges.

Shocked by its presence, a gasp slips out. My fingers dig deeper into Brash's back. Who knows what kind of a fearful expression I'm performing. Brash assures me of his protection by holding me ever closer. With one hand he tries to turn my head away and cover the view of the invader. I persist and turn back, desiring to observe the situation.

Upon inspection it's clear this demonic figure bear female features. Her face, even though twisted, appears as one of a woman in late twenties, somewhat similar to Mors's. Loose, deep burgundy hair - colour of wine - pours down behind her neck. Head molded into infernal horrors, misshapen by horns. Eyes like two abyssal beads. Cruel lips. Pale, dead skin. A garment barely covering her body. 

As she watches us one by one, the restlessness of her empty yet horrendous glare strikes horror in everyone. All but Mors. Of course, she can't see her, but I'm quite certain she's fully aware of the demon. This awareness is more and more true as the demon steps closer to Mors, towering beside her.

The demon's lips part. I can sense everyone's tension without looking anywhere else but at her. A fiery inhalation signs the beginning of her speech. "𝓐 𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓲𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷. 𝓐𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝓮 **?** " her demonic hiss trembles, addressing Mors. "𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭𝓷'𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓫𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭. 𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓯𝓯𝓲𝓬𝓮𝓼 **!** " She follows with a heart-wrenching laugh; mild yet still as nightmarish as her appearance.

Wasting no time for response, Mors pushes into the air, sending our barrier capsules flying towards the portal. The demon squints. The capsules halt abruptly and return to their original location. _Did she just.. stop us with a mere look?_ Completely unshaken by the happenings, Mors continues focusing fully on the barrier channel.

"You may not have them. Depart now, Kanaz."

I shudder. _Kanaz. **This** is the Inquisitor of Misery? The real deal?_ Unlike Mors, Kanaz was never banished, meaning... this is her. Unburdened by restrictions. Twisted by her demonic overlord, Lord Herma-Mora, into submission. Knowing what power Mors wields, the thought of someone unhinged controling even more of it reveals just in how grave of a danger we stand.

Kanaz chuckles, turning her gaze from us to Mors, inspecting the side of her face intently. No menace is discernable, only interest. "𝓘 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓷'𝓽 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶. 𝓘 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾," she clarifies, serious tone rings through her hissing voice.

"To what end?"

"𝓜𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓫𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 **?** 𝓐 𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓵𝔂 𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓶𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓾𝓷𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓵𝔂 **?** "

Mors blows air through her nose, exhibiting short-lived amusement. "Speak plainly."

Kanaz raises her eyebrows at the forwardness. "𝓗𝓸𝔀 𝓭𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓲𝓽 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵, 𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓼𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓾𝓫𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓪𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓪 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓶𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓞𝓫𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓷'𝓼 𝓪𝓫𝔂𝓼𝓼 **?** " She touches Mors's neck with her inhumanely long fingers and plays with her hair. "𝓦𝓱𝔂 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓵 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓶 **?** 𝓐𝓻𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓯𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓽𝔂 **?** 𝓘𝓼 𝓲𝓽 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓯𝓾𝓵, 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓹𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻 𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓮 **?** " she asks sweetly and condescendinly at the same time.

I can feel another attempt to push us through the portal. We move no more than an inch before all movement halts again. "I would have choosen the same result if given another chance," she proclaims proudly, sparing a second to shoot Kanaz a critical look. "The quality of backbone ownership seems rather scarce throughout our Clique."

Kanaz yanks her hand from Mors's hair. Scoffing at that statement, bewildered, she grants us the honour of becoming the subject of their conversation, glancing towards me and Brash. "𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓶 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓪𝓷 **𝓞𝓬𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓪** , 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓘𝓷𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓸 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓪 𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓽?" she snarls viciously, but clearly intrigued by the subject. It nearly appears as if she's.. sniffing the air? 

_What did she just call me? Ochroma?_

Genuine shock flashes through Kanaz's dead eyes. "𝓗𝓮 𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓵𝔂 𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓴𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓲𝓶 **!** " turning her attention back, she glares at Mors, "𝓖𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓼, 𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓼, 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓶𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 **!** " She laughs heartily - or whatever is the equivalent for a demonic godlike creation. She continues on, amused, "𝓦𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭𝓷'𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓪 𝔀𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝔂𝓸𝓾. 𝓗𝓸𝔀 𝓪𝓶𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰 **!** "

Her comments definitely play the right tune; Mors replies with a frown and a determined growl, "You would not know weakness if you were staring right at it." 

Kanaz retorts with a chuckle, "𝓘 **𝓪𝓶** 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓽 **𝔂𝓸𝓾** ,"

Mors doesn't relent in determination, "That only proves it further."

  
Temporary confusion replaces Kanaz's amusement. Her stare shifts to us. She examines Ari and Raze hastily, but remains locked on me and Brash for nearly an eternity. I wish Mors released us so we could run through the portal. I can't say exactly why she deems the measure of using barriers best. It is possible Kanaz could have killed us, but isn't this intense protection attracting more attention than necessary?

Done with the inspection, she turns to Mors. A series of indiscernible language follows, a veiled conversation between the two of them. None of the sounds are familiar or even pronounceable. Listening to the burning, hissing words becomes nearly painful. _This must be infernal tongue._ All I can recognise are looks of contempt, disbelief, shock, and eventually even angst.

"𝓘𝓶𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓫𝓵𝓮," Kanaz proclaims.

"No longer."

A swift look of disturbance falls to us. All of the three barriers are pulled towards the two Inquisitors. "𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓘 𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓸 𝓸𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 **!** "

Mors sees our approach and reacts quickly by hitting Kanaz in the stomach with an elbow, followed up by a summoned blade piercing Kanaz's side. Our approach is stopped; likely not because of the wounds. As problematic as they would be for normal being, even demonhearts, she shows no more than a flinch of surprise.

With a blink of her eye, the dagger dissolves and the wound heals rapidly. Expressing sorrow in a scowl, she chuckles, "𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓬𝓱 𝓶𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓽, 𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓬 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓮, 𝓢𝓸𝓻𝓸𝓻."

"I do not wish to," Mors whispers, offering the same sorrowful look, disregarding the foreign name Kanaz called her.

Kanaz's interest in us seems to have momentarily disappeared, perhaps because of her clouded reasoning. A constant, troubled look falls to Mors and stays there, ignoring all else. Reluctantly releasing one arm from the job of casting barriers, Mors draws a symbol in the air. As she completes each subsequent part of it, the walls, floor and ceiling light up with blue and yellow runes. Ones I saw her casting earlier today. Noting their appearance, Kanaz shakes her head slowly.

It takes no more than a few seconds for us to witness the runes' purpose. As they become activated, they spin and emit massive amounts of energy. Taking advantage of Kanaz's temporary distraction, Mors finally pushes us through the portal. Before it takes us in, an enormous explosion forms in the hallways. Kanaz quickly squints at me before leaving the area in a shadowy fog, the same one she arrived in. Mors stays behind. Her content smile is the last thing I see.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Source: [Kanaz] Lilith by Igor Sid, [ArtStation](https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Oy4b16)


	25. Together and Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Escape from the ruins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a previous half of chapter 24! I split the it in two since I should have done that in the first place. BUT, IT'S NOT ALL THE SAME. I tweaked the ruins-hallway scene a bit. I hated the passiveness I had written for Bright - it just made no sense in connection to the character she's becoming. So, this is my attempt at fixing that mistake.

Violent spirals of red mist. Thrashing and tugging. Embrace broken. Solitude. A lurch; less sickening but more horror-filled than before. I can't recall what happened inside the portal, but the travel didn't resemble my previous experiences. A change occurred during. Someone altered our path.

My body falls to the ground. _Fucking portals, I swear to Gods._ This time the exit feels considerably more unpleasant. As I push myself to the side and on my back, it's clear that the portal has moved. Instead of floating in the middle of my cell, it stems from the ceiling. Actually.. _Wait. Where the hells are we?_

This isn't my cell. No chains, no broken mirror, no melted tools. More light, more space, more warmth. Shifting my head from side to side, I quickly come to a realisation. The laboratory. This is where me and Brash killed Rivera. _That must mean.. her body is still here._ I dropped down in the corridor part of the chamber, one leading to the circular, spacious part, meaning the corpse lies far enough for me to not fall into shock just yet.

I press into the stone, hoisting myself upwards. There she is. I can see her marred, still body residing at the bottom of a pillar. The sight brings me to inhale a breath of difficult reality. And.. _Oh Gods!_ My hand immediately flies to pinching nostrils together, closing them shut. What a foul, rancid stench! The stench of death. I've not known it this vividly yet, especially bearing the responsibility for the deed.

  
Another portal opens at a distant part of the ceiling. A body falls through, accompanied by a yelp. Ari. I dash towards her with the intent of helping her recover. She takes my offered hand and regains footing. As she's about to thank me with a genuine and broad smile, her sight shifts to the side, eyes widening.

"..Gods, no!" she screams out desperately, clearly taking note of Rivera's corpse. Meaning to head to her, meaning to examine her corpse, Ari tries to shove me aside and make way to her goal. I don't let her; my arms restrain hers behind her back. "You knew what must have happened when me and Brash returned to Inferno!" I argue logic, voice rough with the strain of effort exerted at Ari's subduement.

She cries, tears flooding her cheeks unstoppably, "Yes, but why such torment? How could you! You said 'torture wasn't punishment', yet you do this?!"

Her emotion surprises me. The way she acted around Raze, the lack of any response to what obviously transpired considering our entrance through the portal, the seeming desire to own my heart,.. What is with this witch? What does she want at all? How trustworthy is she? It **is** true that we didn't spare Rivera from pain before ending her life. We had our personal debts to settle. On the other hand, there were far worse things we could have done, things she was deserving of. The fate that befell her remains a kind one still.

Knowing she wouldn't see eye to eye with me on that, I attempt to divert her thoughts, "She would have done the same to you. It took no effort to make her believe your mind was set to betrayal. If she believed in your supposed treason more than she believed in your loyalty, that alone should stand proof enough of her lack of trust and love." Her cries intensify. Her struggle against my hold ceases as she drops to the ground on her knees.

"..I'm sorry, Ari. There was no choice," I console the despondent witch with a compassionate hand over her shoulder. She shakes it off, frenetic. "As you said; whoever deals with Rivera is left with none. Better she met her fate on her own than force you into joining it."

I understand my words bear little significance at the moment, so I leave her to mourn as much as she pleases. She's not done me any direct grievance, apart from supposedly desiring my heart, but who knows what that was about. It's clear she favours Raze, but I doubt she'd make attempt at my life without his direct approval or support. And I doubt he'd ever give it.

  
A third portal opens behind me, near the place I dropped down to. A massive figure. Brash. Running to him, I drop to the ground and look him over. No wounds as far as I can tell. Once he's able to focus enough to discern my identity, he frowns and immediately looks me over.

"Are you hurt?"

I shake my head, unable to hide the tiniest hint of happiness at his constant worry, "No."

He sets his frowns deeper, examining me for traces of a lie, wondering whether I'm not concealing something he should be concerned about. Eventually, he nods. Noticing the change of our destination, he tenses. With my ceaseless tugs at his hands to help him regain sure footing, he finds himself standing once again.

"How the fuck did we get here?"

"I can't say. I felt the portal's direction change. Someone must have altered it. I suspect Mors."

Brash turns his attention towards the source of the room's continuous cries. As he takes steps to enclose the distance between him and Ari, so do I follow at his side. He makes no comment about the stench of death, showing no more than a tame recoil as it reaches his senses. Brash surely means to address the witch in some manner, but his purpose is cut short by a, to me already familiar, sound.

  
The expected fourth and also final portal opens nearby Ari's position. Its passenger doesn't collapse gracelessly onto the ground like the rest of us, instead lands on his hooves effortlessly with the help of extended wings to slow the fall. Even though aware of his presence, Ari doesn't rise. Her attention remains aimed at the woeful arrangement of her previous master. This appears peculiar to Raze, but he spares her no more than a glance. Impassioned by wrath, his glare strikes me and Brash.

"My home," he whispers, voice termoring, "Destroyed. Because of **you**!" Furious glower hardens his expression. Previously thought aimed at us both, I now notice the slight angle of his glare, Brash being its target. Fixing him a baffled warp of all facial muscles, I inquire, "What does he have to do with it? He can hardly be to blame for-"

Raze scoffs, setting fire to the air around him, at least metaphorically. " 'Hardly to blame'? You cannot be serious!" he snaps at me. "The only reason Mors destroyed the shelter was to force Kanaz's departure. And the only reason Kanaz arrived at all was the reaction your dog forced out of Mors upon entrance, which shook the entire plane!"

_She was aware of Kanaz's incoming visit?_

"Can't you see? Utter carnage follows in his wake! Everywhere he steps," Raze continues the cascade of insistant warnings. "Come to reason and recognise the obvious."

Brash, unappreciative of Raze's remarks, pulls his greatsword out with intent and growls brutally, "Brave fucking goat." Taking a few steps forward, he nears Raze with the readied weapon. "Want to continue the discussion we couldn't finish earlier?" he grits his teeth and assumes a threatening stance.

Amusement wipes all traces of Raze's anger. "Still the same, feebleminded mutt. How very menacing; your growls, barks and yaps!" he taunts with a laugh. "What an interesting choice of company you keep, my sweetness," he suddenly addresses me, likely to infuriate Brash even further.

And he does.

With a wild roar, Brash charges. Raze grins, satisfied. The blade's tip aims to Raze's chest. He doesn't even flinch and lets the blade impale him through and through. Twisting around Brash in impossible speed, Raze pulls the sword out. He uses the element of surprise to shove Brash to the ground, forearm pressing into his back powerfully enough to send him flying. The sword follows Brash's fate.

  
"What a fool you are, mongrel," he crudely turns to school Brash, wound already healed, "you cannot kill me. Demonspawn never die. Regardless of wounds, regardless of damage or pain, we stay alive and conscious." Granting me the entirety of his attention, he twists with the help of his wings and walks towards me, right in front of the still-mourning Ari. "Which is exactly why you **must** be beside me instead, sweetness."

I can hear Brash getting up and charging at Raze's back. He's thrown back with a snap of Raze's fingers. I tremble. _Magic as well? And true immortality, too. What powers do demonspawn really possess?_

"Only I stand able to protect you. Only I may help you reach total vengeance and whatever else your heart desires." Raze extends his open hand towards me. "Let us leave this dreadful place. Let us fulfill Orchid's wish," he stirs memory of my promise. A promise to protect her son, guide and teach him. A promise I made absent vital knowledge.

"You stand the fool here, Raze." I confidently step to the side and farther away from him. He cringes, hand retreating. I continue seriously while nearing Brash, walking sideways cautiously and slowly, "I don't care for your power or the opportunities it offers. My heart's interests remain the same."

"I will yet change them to favour me."

Astonished, I chuckle, momentarily halting movement. "Why do you keep insisting? What keeps this endless pursuit of my heart alive?"

He frowns painfully, "..The fact that you're the only being I care about."

Mouth agape, I stare at him, hearing that confession. He returns the stare, equal in emotion. But a swift change occurs. His head jerks towards the chamber's door, as if in a sudden discovery. A heap of thoughts twists his tail. When his gaze meets mine again, an extended arm of his gestures towards me, inviting me to take the open hand. I respond by tensing my jaw and taking another step sideways towards Brash. Having stood up quite the while ago, he's observing our exchange cautiously, perhaps interested in my actions.

As I stand by his side, holding his hand in mine, I hear the wildness of his breathing calm. The same cannot be said about Raze. Grimacing in disgust, he spares a glance at Ari. She's watching him, face full of tears in the process of drying. I can see the suppressed desire to take my place beside Raze all over her expression. Since she doesn't act on it, she's met with the same disgusted glare.

The offered arm descends and red mist follows a relocation incantation. Just like that, he's gone, leaving us in the laboratory. All three of us and.. Rivera's corpse. I doubt she'll be going anywhere, though.

  
A heavy sigh flows out of Ari's lips, breaking the short silence. Me and Brash break it further. 

"What the fuck was that about? Where did he go?" Brash glares to where Raze stood only seconds ago.

"I've got no idea. Likely a place he knows. Not that he knows many. He's been to Orchid's before, obviously. Maybe he's gone there?"

Fuming hot breath through his nostrils, he shrugs, "Whatever. I don't actually give a fuck. Glad we're rid of the twat."

As much as I understand the sentiment, I definitely don't share the level of hatred he bears towards Raze. From what he said, it appears my well-being remains the only thing he concerns his mind with. To the point of obsession. A fool's errand. Even then, I can't bring myself to dislike him or condemn his actions. All he's ever done was try to help. At least, help **me** only. I doubt this was the last we've seen of him.

  
_Either way.._

  
I keep my hand locked around Brash's as I step in front of him, offering a subdued smile to calm his unhinged nerves, "What do we do now that we're alone again?" Even though languid, his hand remains in the hold. To my surprise, he doesn't seize the opportunity to make a perverse comment. He lingers in the tensed frown. "Not alone," Brash jerks his head in the direction of Ari. "What about her?" Hearing herself become the subject of our conversation, I see Ari's head rise with a terrified expression.

I ease her worry with a blank, unthreatening look. "She stays here. It's her home, after all." Her chest expands rapidly multiple times, listening to my response, eyes and head nodding in grattitude. "I see no reason to bring her anywhere." He shrugs, "Fine, I didn't give a shit about her anyway."

"Us, on the other hand.." I wince, "Where to now? Did Mors say anything about our next course of action?" I reference their mind-conversation, wondering what was so important she couldn't have told us all. _Why did she tell **him**? Why not talk to me directly? _With some hesitation, he answers warily, "Your girl told me to take you to Shellshore."

I flinch, "Shellshore? That's so far away! What's the reason for such a direction?"

"She didn't say, like the fucking demonic cunt she is; always keeping secrets."

I groan in annoyance, rolling my eyes. _His despisement for demons, not just Mors, must be supported by some personal experience._ I doubt this place is best for such conversations, though. My eyes are begging to cry from the continuous odour of rotting flesh. He lifts my head with left hand pressed underneath my chin. All uneasiness washes away from his expression and becomes replaced by merriment, seeing as we're together, unchained, and on our path again. Even though he wouldn't let me fight beside him earlier, it was only from the fear of me suffering wounds.

_He's an idiot, but a lovable one._

Grinning into my eyes, he brings my chin closer, bit by bit. "Demons all around you. Maybe **you're** the one who's more trouble than they're worth, not me," he dares and taunts. When he notices the offense I took at the jest, his grin widens and turns into a smile, both in lips and eyes. With a repeated side-to-side motion, his head confirms the absence of malevolence and substance that suggestion bears. 

  
As he closes in eagerly to taste my lips, heavy and continuous steps from behind the chamber's exit interrupt us, forcing us to stiffen and focus up. Immediately retrieving weapons from my bag, I ready myself in case someone enters the laboratory. Brash does the same. Ari whimpers and finally gets up from the ground. 

"B-Bandits?!" she sniffles.

"Heavy armor. Soldiers," Brash corrects Ari in a whisper.

  
The sounds draw ever closer. We need to act now. 

  
I move towards the door. Brash stops me right away. "Where the fuck are you going?" he scolds me silently. I reply in the same manner, "To see who we're dealing with." He snorts amusedly, as if taken aback by the ignorance of my response. "And if it's Vaytos's invading army? Are you going to talk them out of butchering me and taking you two as souvenirs?"

It's true, we **are** somewhat close to the borders. Even if Scarcewall guards most of them, some mountain and forest paths surely remain as viable entry points. And thus, my resolve decreases but doesn't vanish quite yet.

He exhales, posture still hardened, "It's not them anyway. They wear light armor. These cunts here-" he gestures to the few feet distant door, "-are wearing heavy shit. Knights wear that. Or armies of cities that can afford it. Suntown, Scarcewall, Darkholme, Travail.. **And** since I'm still a fucking law-officer, unless you forgot about that little detail," he shoots me a patronising smirk, " **I** should be the one to see whose army it is."

I nod, head hung low. Glad that I agree, he reaches for the door handle, but I reach for the other one at the same time. "I'm going anyway."

That's enough to stop him. "Idiot, I just told you-"

I dig into his eyes with my decisive look, "Yes, I heard you. I don't care. I'm going."

The steps approach. Soldiers can be heard stampeding through the hallway.

"Why are you so stubborn about this, kitten? I'm trying to keep you from harm's way," he wistfully implores to see my change of heart. None comes. I stand firm, not to be pushed away anymore. Seeing the unyielding perseverance, he sighs, "..Stay right behind me. And for the love of all that's holy, don't say a fucking word."

Although irked by the indelicacy of his order, I nod.

"You," Brash addresses Ari for a moment, "Stay here. Hide. Whoever they are, all soldiers kill witches when given chance." Looking around, terrified, she crawls towards a desk and clumsily hides herself underneath it.

With that out of the way, Brash clutches the handle and, giving me one last look of concern, he opens the door slowly and carefully, not desiring to bring all attention to us.

  
The hallway appears surprisingly empty. Though it was mere seconds ago when we heard the robust steps, there are no culprits to be seen. The rampage they left behind assures us of their presence. The hallway suffered considerable wrath from Rivera already, but now it stands accompanied by additional carnage; some doors unhinged or broken, all paintings torn down.

A silhouette emerges from the corridor to our right. Once Brash takes note of it, he immediately turns in its direction, shoving me behind himself in the process. _Ghhh,_ I growl but don't fight my way through the wall he's creating in front of me just yet, waiting for more information to reveal itself before striking if necessary. I'm still able to observe the happenings from behind Brash's shoulder, and so I do.

Clearing his throat, he declares strongly, "No threat. Sir Brash of Scarcewall present, I was held prisoner here."

Two more heavy figures stand firm next to the silhouette now; staring at us, examining us. The tension builds through the emptiness of the corridor stretching vacant between us. It breaks once the silhouette takes steps towards us, the heavy figures following in its lead. Torches hanging from the walls barely lend hand in identifying any of the soldiers. Brash cocks his head upwards slightly, remaining confident throughout all uncertainty.

  
Left. Right. Left.

Sturdy steps echo throughout the hallway.

Right. Left. Right.

The light grazes the soldiers' armor.

Left. Right. 

Full stop.

  
"Well, well, well, I can hardly believe the sight!"

Since Brash isn't trying to hide me totally, rather keep me shielded, I'm able to sneak a peak at the person speaking. Of course, I can tell only by her voice, but I have to see for myself. Have to know that it's not just my mind playing tricks. Even with all that effort Brash is exherting for the sake of my protection, the angst that was clasping my insides only a moment ago had dissipated already. And so I thoughtlessly step out from behind Brash, quickly and suddenly enough that he cannot hope to block me in the path as I make forth towards-

"Rose!" I call out while approaching her stationary position, absent-minded to the consequences. They hit me swiftly in the form of her hard-boiled, examinatory squint. My appearance comes as great disturbance to Rose, but she conceals it beneath a mask of indifference as quickly as expected. A growled sigh blares from whence I came - Brash must be expressing his boundless annoyance at my heedless breaking of the suggestion I agreed to; 'Don't say a word'. _Oh, whoops._

"..Hey there, cat," she deters my approach by the prompt and dispassionate sentence, narrowing her eyes. I respond with only a staggered look. _Odd._ _She's not treated me this way before. Actually.. She must have known I was to die here. I doubt she expected to see my face ever again. Still, I hope we can talk-_ Her look mellows and, without moving her head, she shoots swift, hidden glares to the side; to the two soldiers next to her, their eyes pinned to me in confusion, ready to strike me down.

_Right. We've got company._

I nod, acknowledging the situation. With a few steps backwards, I return to Brash. His arm immediately shoots up to my wrist, probably meaning to drag me behind him again. I don't let that happen - jerking my arm away, I firmly stand beside him. Another frustrated sigh. _No more hiding. We're in this together._ But still, thank Gods there are better things to hold his attention at the moment.

"Jayden? The fuck are **you** doing here?" Brash maintains stern tone, "Isn't crawling through shitholes like this 'beneath an ambassador'?" he taunts Rose, relaxing his body profoundly in the process. I can't begin to measure the amount of luck we've been bestowed with. Had it been anyone else.. who knows what would have gone down instead.

She sounds a nasal chuckle, "You were missing for two godsdamned weeks! Mace sent the entirety of Bale's brigade after your damsel-in-distress butt because of-"

A different, deeper voice cuts her off, coming from the other end of the corridor, "Brashy, ma boy!" As Brash does a complete one-eighty, I do, too. Speedy feet carry the other voice's bearer to us in haste. Once right in front of us, a nearly teary-eyed flood of concern takes place.

"How could ye have done tha' ta me lil' heart! Gone fer a fortnight! We thought ye dead, lad!" Jarlan swings through the air, his beard flying all over the place. I can't but smile at their clearly affectionate friendship. Brash finally breaks the stern grimace and pats Jarlan's shoulder, laughing, "Don't say you were worried about me!"

"'Course I was!" he doubles down, hands joining the distressed beard. "Could nay handle it no more! I took ta Mace and begged, and he 'eard mine weeps."

Rose joins in, cheery, "Rejoice, Brash! Mace loves you back!"

I cringe. _'Loves him back'?_ I understand Brash holds respect for Lord Mace, that much was clear from whenever he spoke of him. I assume all - or most - Scarcewallers do, but the way Rose makes it sound...

  
Their merry exchanges continue. I chime in a few times, teasing Jarlan about not greeting me at all, as if I were air. Just seeing me disturbs him, so his answers are phrased strangely formally and warily. Either way, he's too emotionally overwhelmed to pay me full mind, instantly returning to granting Brash the honour of being the only subject of the conversation.

As I watch them, truly glad to see friendly and familiar faces, perturbed glances keep falling to me. Rose's, mostly. The two soldiers towering beside her continue standing like two wooden stakes, piercing me with troubled looks. I send a few of my own their way. _I've already bested Garrosh and Rivera - I can't imagine these two posing an issue._ A thought creeps in - perhaps I'm becoming too daring? Too reckless? I immediately cease the attention I'm giving the soldiers. _No need to raise more suspicion. I'm too negligent. Brave doesn't equal mindless. Use your brain, Bright._

Upon inquiry of our fate, Brash describes in very little detail how we came to end in this situation. No mention of the Serpents, our affection, my abilities or even the return of his heart. Only the barest information: We arrived, I was taken as planned, Brash was taken by surprise, following torture, my escape and skipping over days of time, Brash immediately connects us to my freeing him and this very moment, as if we had just finished eliminating Rivera.  
  


Possessing all information, Rose narrows her eyes at Brash, speaking seriously, "..Alright, but with Rivera out of the picture, you know what happens next," her eyes find me, as stern as ever. "She belongs to Mace now."

He replies in a wild growl, "Over my dead fucking body," taking a step to once again stand as a shield in front of me.

And the atmosphere twists completely; from a somewhat upbeat mood into a suffocating tension. The nature of Brash's response elicits a snap in expression of every single person in the hall. _Is he so certain of my impending doom at the hands of Lord Mace?_ I have come to the same conclusion earlier as well, but to see my fears realised is a different matter completely.

The moment he speaks his mind, all four of the Scarcewallers wear the same shaken look - the two soldiers more so than the knights, both ready to unsheath weapons and smite anyone besmirching Lord Mace's will. Rose quickly comes to a conclusion, most likely also a few steps ahead in thought. Grasping her daggers, she runs each through the soldiers' throats, killing them on the spot.

I yelp in shock but manage to cover my own mouth swiftly. _What- Why-_

She wipes her daggers on the dead soldiers' arms before sheathing them again. "As far as we're concerned," Rose glances at Jarlan who stands noticeably surprised but steady, "they fell to Rivera's traps." Now glancing at me, taking note of my state, she adds, "They were going to betray us and snitch to Mace, sweetheart. You don't want him knowing what was said here. Believe me."

My ears can barely register what she's telling me as my eyes focus fully on the dead bodies so casually left lying on the floor. Blood. Monsterous amount of it. The two crimson rivers flowing from each wound conjoin and create a large stream. It floods the area. Nobody seems to care. Business as usual.

  
They argue on. I can't honestly concentrate on their words. The blood reaches Brash's heavy armor boots, encompassing them effortlessly. It's approaching me. A nudge fixes my shoulder. Some of my senses return.

"..-worry, everything's fine."

That's definitely Brash, I know his voice better than my own. His hand rests on my shoulder, kneading it carefully. Even then I cannot look up from the dead soldiers and their lifeless eyes. Rose's pair of slender feet walks off to the end of the corridor. I can only hope she means to keep guard and not call for reinforcements. 

  
"Seven years fer nothin'! Ye've gone mad!"

"Who fucking said I wouldn't be a knight anymore? Nothing changes."

Jarlan laughs, " ' **Who** '?! How 'bout Mace 'imself! Wha' do ye expect 'is reaction ta be?"

Red liquid pours ever closer, nearly at my boots. I can't take a step further backwards. The door prevents retreat. The blood is coming for me.

"Either ye serve or yer head gets served instead."  
  


The blood is here. It envelops my boots and soaks the leather. Brash lifts my gaze by pressing underneath my chin again, forcing me to stop watching the flood. Seeing his vexation shakes the shock. As unjust as these soldiers' fates were, it was a necessary precaution. Us or them in the long-run. **Us or them.**

_Blood isn't a novelty to me. I've witnessed blood before. I've caused its appearance before._

Calm returns to my lungs. My heart slows down to a manageable speed. I spare the dead soldiers one last glance. A long glance, all the while the two knights argue. Lifeless, beady eyes search my glance. _Us or them._

  
Finally conscious again, I realise what the two have been arguing about. Jarlan insists that Brash's decision to protect me will end with him losing everything; his knighthood, place in the Palace, in the army, in Scarcewall as a whole, and also his own life. 'Serve or die,' as Jarlan put it. I had no reason to believe rumours before, but perhaps the name people give Lord Mace isn't without reason.

'The Tyrant Lord of Scarcewall.'

Brash speaks, digging into my eyes full of thoughts with his own, sapped look. "This is important to me, Jarlan."

Jarlan doesn't answer immediately, taking time to inhale and exhale repeatedly as if announcing his process of mulling the situation over in his head. His answer isn't the issue we're facing right now, anyway.

  
_I'm happy Brash is so determined to not fail me again.._ _But.._ _I can't let him do this.  
Throw his entire life away. _  
_And for what?  
Some girl he doesn't know past dealings in a made-up beast-filled war?_  
_Perhaps even his feelings are imaginary.  
_ _Fictitious._  
_A make-believe distraction born of stress and deadly peril._

  
As stomach-turning as I find this thought, it's the only one I'm presently blighted by. It rests in my chest; a curse. A necessary sacrifice for his own good.

  
"Jarlan," I shift my head slightly to look at him over Brash's shoulder, "could you give us a moment alone? Please?" I ask weakly.

He interrupts the constant movements of feet and considers the request. With a hesitant and soundless nod he leaves, walking off to the corridor's other end. I'm surprised no soldiers have come to investigate yet. Rose said an entire brigade was sent. Either the ruins are extremely deep and extensive, or they're completely surrounded on the outside.

Once Jarlan is out of earshot, Brash whispers meekly, still holding my chin in his hand, "Alone? Here?" He grins, "Sweetie, I don't think this is the best time to-"

Defeating his mood by pushing him away with both my hands, I create a space between us, large enough to allow focus. Dismayed by my reaction, he attempts to approach again. I shoot him down with a strong-willed glare. He moves no closer. 

  
I breathe in.

_There's no way I can let him do this._

I breathe out.

  
"Go with them," I implore Brash seriously, who becomes more bewildered with each of my tenacious words. "Tell Lord Mace Rivera burnt me and her apprentice alive, thinking we were plotting together. She then only needed **you** to become a demonheart herself. Say you killed her when she entered a fit of reckless rage, having let her guard down. That way he, or anyone else, won't search for me and you'll have protected me, fulfilling your promise," I finalise painting the scheme.

I can't say exactly how effective this story might be, if it would convince Lord Mace at all. Even if not, I doubt he'd care enough to look for some demon girl. Were he from Suntown, the capital where anyone associated with demons or witchery gets sent to await execution, I'd be worried stiff.

Such stiffness can now be viewed in Brash's posture. As if petrified by my words, only his expression changes. And change it does. At first he appears in deep thought, eyebrows shifting all around, a weak grin following their movements. As I continue on, his grin dissolves, substituted by a grim curve of lips. And once my proposition lays bare, his face reads consternation. Eyes flash bitterness.

  
"You can't be serious," he puts my offer to question in a low-power tone.

"I am," responding as unwaveringly as possible, I tense my muscles and unintentionally end up frowning. "It's best you return."

"'Best I return'?" he cringes, reciting what I said, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

I tense up even further, grimacing in painful objection. "What's wrong with me? What's wrong with **you**! You're trying to destroy your entire life over-" I stop for only a fraction of a second, gathering courage to finish the sentence, "-over something that's not even real."

With a wide-eyed scowl, he takes a step away from me. The last time Brash's feelings were betrayed, his broken heart lead him to accepting Rivera's offer, careless about his fate. 'Self-destructive tendencies', Rivera wrote in the journal. That's definitely not any better than being on the run with me like a criminal. _I must be careful with what I say. And how I say it. Unfortunately, only aggression seems to work when attempting to sway Brash. Raze was 'kind' enough to demonstrate._

"So, you didn't mean any of it last night," he draws the conclusion that I must have lied to him when I revealed my feelings, not asking a question but announcing instead, voice disheartened, gaze lowered to the ground.

I can't even muster enough strength to lie and avoid answering completely, "..Return to Scarcewall, Brash."

He doesn't let it go. "Why the fuck did you even say it? You enjoy fucking with my head, whore?" he roars the accusations, threatening the cold, stone floor. His right foot and fists fidget restlessly.

Seeing his endless refusal to simply depart and leave me behind, I push the facade further. "You said you'd die in my place if need be," I adopt Rivera's mannerisms and tone, "Only a fool would waste an opportunity like that, so I said what I said to keep you around willingly," I hiss wildly, perhaps too wildly, gaze averted from his protruding eyes.

I can feel the burn of his glare upon me. I hear a sure snort. And before I know it, a quick step brings him from the opposite wall right in front of me, not even few inches. "I don't think I believe you," he says calmly yet still emanates aura of danger, snickering in abhorred ridicule, maybe wrath.

"Believe what you want," I retort curtly.

Without giving a warning, he grasps my chin viciously and yanks my head around, forcing me to come face to face with him. "Then tell me," he snarls, holding my entire jaw in his palm, fingers digging into both cheeks.

I grimace in hurt, "Tell you wha-"

  
Not letting me finish, he assaults my lips with his, trying to get the answer he's searching for out of my body if not from my words-forming tongue. His assaults are just that - assaults; violent, brutal and cruel; not a shred of affection. What I said clearly aggravated him beyond measure.

_What the fuck! He can't just do.. that and think the.. issue is.. resolved._

As he continues, I find myself on several occassions wanting to kiss back and calm his temper. But the desire to save him from future regret overpowers any selfish desires that try to affect my reasoning. So, as he holds my head in place with his grip, as he attacks my mouth, and as his empty hand prevents my arms from pushing him away, I shut my eyes and purse lips, in an attempts to stop him.

  
His attention moves to my cheek to counter those efforts.

"Tell me," he growls.

Next, to my ear.

"Tell me you don't want me."

The back of my jaw.

"Tell me you don't give a shit about me."

Alongside my neck.

"I want to hear you actually say it."

Since I can barely even think with all that's going on, my efforts to push him away cease. He siezes the opportunity and pulls my body right into his with both hands, immediately wandering around and under my butt.

"Say it and I'll leave."

  
I couldn't bring myself to speak that entire time. Only now do I realise my ability to do so. Anytime he nears my body with his, I forget about the entire world and its existence. He has me in total grasp. He must be aware of that. Not only have I continuously proven this in the past, but it appears my hands are once again locked around his waist, pressing him into me. _Fuck!_ The observation revives my attention and puts inhibition back in order, causing my arms to retreat swiftly.

"I.."

So begins my search for words in pursuit of a falsified admission. _If only he weren't groping me so vigorously, I would be able to form words-_ His hands move underneath my leggins, angrily clawing at the bare skin. Scoffing ominously at the lack of offered resistance, he groans, "Yes, kitten? Tell me just how much you don't care."

Breathing growing heavier by the second, I manage to compose more than just one word with my waning voice, "I.. don't.." He quickly bites down on my neck to stop me from finishing the sentence - not too painfully but definitely not gently. It takes everything out of me just to not moan out in reaction. 

_Fucking hells, I shouldn't have sent Jarlan away. Brash would have never done this with him watching. At least.. I think so._

His bites decrease in roughness as he turns them into softer and softer kisses. "Were you saying something, sweetheart?" I offer no response. _I've got to.. snap out of this.. godsdamned trance._ Another snicker, more animated than the previous ones. "I didn't think so," Brash whispers sweetly before sliding his hand ever farther down my leggings. "Don't worry, I'll make you forget all about this little episode you're having."

  
The implication brought to life by his fingers' imminent touch aimed between my thighs wakes me completely and totally this time.

"Stop! Stop it!" I nearly yell. My hands once again find purpose and, pressing into his chest, they shove him away so suddenly and powerfully not even he expected it. I'm freed from his lips and from the intruding hands. He stays exactly where he just landed, not approaching anymore, as per request. 

Left hand flying up, I cover half of my face as a shiver runs through my spine. Panting manically, I whimper, "Just go home. For your own sake. Forget about everything and.. return to your life."

A few moments of silence pass by, ones he uses to look me over. I doubt he knows what to think of this adamant resolve I'm continuously displaying. I doubt he comprehends the reasons for my suggestion. And I doubt he needs to be made aware. All he has to do is accept the fact that I'm not worth abandoning years of effort over.

_Like Jarlan said, I'm just some red-haired cat. Brash would realise it soon enough anyway. It's better he leaves now rather than-_  
  


"Return to my life?" he quotes weakly, shaking his head. "The fuck do I have to return to? Killing, whoring and drinking until either of them ends me for good?" A sad chuckle. "Yeah, what a great fucking prospect," he mocks, showering me with a painfully sarcastic tone.

I take a long, deep breath, wishing it would grant air along with the power to honestly convince Brash. "Once you're back in Scarcewall, you'll remember exactly why you love the place. The Palace, the inns, your comrades," I attempt to awaken memories of his home, hoping he envisions a prominent future beside friends and Lord Mace.

"True, I couldn't imagine anything better than that only a few weeks ago," he glooms, "But now I can sure imagine something much worse. Thanks for that."

"Suppression, then. I believe you medicated that to me before," I tell him spitefully. "Make use of it and see yourself return to happiness, **as well as** to Scarcewall."

Wholeheartedly astounded, his head shakes once more. He yet again avoids answering the main point of our altercation, "Don't tell me you believed anything I said. Didn't think you were actually blind, deaf **and** dumb."

"I guess I am! All the more reason to get away, lest it rubs off on you, too," I hiss. "And you **did** make it clear it's easier for you to fight on your own. **Alone**. Without me to 'burden' you," I press to provoke.

Unsuccessfully.

Brash smirks, "I'm not as fucking stupid as everyone enjoys pointing out," he pushes himself off the wall but doesn't take any steps, "I know that everything you're saying is bullshit. I can't say what the hells you're doing this for, but you're a lousy fucking liar."

 _..Godsdamnit. Maybe I can still salvage this, though?_ I part my lips to retaliate but he speaks first, quicker with words.

He narrows his eyes, "Your story is all wrong. I said I'd protect you with my life **after** your confession. Not before. Followed by me telling you just how much I fucking love you." I bite down on my lower lip hearing him say it again. "Or did you already forget?" As my eyelids and brow begin to quiver, he finally steps right in front of me again.

His hand finds its way into my hair. "Do you think I say it often? To anyone? Or at all?"

I don't answer. I can't.

"Well?"

As he's done so far, I ignore the question and go around it instead. "You also said you'd leave if I told you to," I murmur, moving my head far enough to the side until his hand leaves my hair. "Our mutual.. distraction.. isn't worth the price you're seemingly willing to pay. So just **go** already!" I insist, to my surprise, incredibly forcefully.

Brash pauses. A somber snort. His right hand reaches my left. I move it away. He yanks at it and grabs a hold of it despite my efforts. Lifting it up, an inspection follows. My eyes follow the motion keenly, uncertain of what he means to do.

  
A modest smile. His fingers twist the ring I'm wearing on my left ring-finger, one he endowed me with, playing with it. "The moment I return to Scarcewall and Mace senses my heart restored, he'll rip it right out and eat it. Just like he tried once already."

My head jerks backwards at that suggestion. I ask, "Why would-"

Brash grimly answers regardless of interruption, loudly enough for me to realise the precariousness of the subject, "He's a fucking white demonheart, Bright. A white hunter! When he discovers a demonheart in Shermyr, you best fucking believe he's getting his hands on them, unless Suntown gets to them first."

 _A white demonheart.. I've heard of them before._ Alonda's subjects #1 and #2. The first dead, his heart consumed by the second one whose fate remains uncertain. But.. I doubt that would be Mace. _Too big of a coincidence. Right?_

Startled by the revelation, I tense up, "Why didn't you take me to him directly, then?"

"Because Rivera wanted **you** and nobody else. Mace knew about my.." he grimaces for a moment, "..duties to her. He figured it's better to let some girl's weak heart go than lose his second-in-command."

"Then why do you believe he'd take your heart? If he so cherishes your company, I doubt he'd rob you of life."

I must have struck nail on the head with that question; Brash scowls dejectedly only at the thought of it occurring. "As much as I used to believe he wouldn't tear my heart out, I've been doubting it ever since you brought it back. I just can't be sure enough, now that there's.." He sighs and plays with the ring again. "..Now that I have something to lose."

Those words freeze me in place. _He just.. doesn't relent. Why the hells not? Fuck._ That comes as a surprise, having seen the amount of times he was willing to abandon me in the past. But then again, he never did. Not when he had the choice, at least. My right hand balls into a fist as he holds the left in his grasp.

"So, unless you want me to die-," his voice whispers emptily, gaze set upon me in the exact same blankness. "-or, best case scenario if Mace decides to keep me around, be miserable and depressed again, then fine. Send me to Scarcewall. Tell me to go and I'll go."

At that offer my mind rings through with the sound of silence. Had I known any of what he revealed before, I would have never tried to convince him to return. I honestly thought it seemed the best option. But.. Lord Mace. A white hunter. Brash's hesitation in returning seems reasonable. I'd most likely not entrust my life into the hands of someone who's already exhibited their desire for it either. 

  
_Godsdamnit. Now I feel like an idiot. Had I known..._ Even though it's mere minutes from the moment I recognised my growing recklessness, it nearly cost me. Of course, I wasn't aware of the facts Brash just revealed, but..still. I could have just asked and not insisted so stubbornly. _Use your brain, godsdamnit._

  
"You're.. not going anywhere without me," I assure him of my honest feelings on the matter, bringing the hand that's playing with my ring closer, hugging that arm with both of mine over my chest. He relaxes, putting on a smile wider than he probably meant to display initially. "Then what was all the dumbassery for?" he asks, hand brushing rogue tress of hair out of my eyes and securing it behind my ear. 

Weighed by a heavy heart, I avert my gaze and explain, "I didn't want you to regret choosing me over.. well.. everything you know." His hand freezes. A tough, dark look. Averted gaze. A chuckle breaks the visage. Returning to life, the hand inches away from my hair and aims to hold my cheek.

"I couldn't ever regret that. Is that clear?"

The realisation that I nearly told Brash to leave me for good strikes a tad late, but it does come eventually. As my arms find their way around and behind his neck, I whisper, "I'm sorry about what I-"

"Yeah, yeah. I see you meant well, even though it was all stupid as fuck," he encourages me softly, head pressed against mine. "You told the goat I was a part of your life. How fucking dare you think you're not a part of mine?" I drill my head into his neck with continuous shaking. _Godsdamnit._ "Dumb fucking cat," a kiss lands into my hair, "We're in this together. Got it?"

Retreating my head to get a better look at Brash, I nod, "Together," before finally returning a kiss he so adamantly demanded from me earlier. It's met with none of the previous cruelty and brutality, but a warm gladness.

Steps sound through the hallway. Twin chuckles interrupt us, but Brash doesn't let me move far; his hand holds mine firmly, keeping the arm in place next to his body. I don't intend on straying far anyway. _Together. Hopefully we can apply the concept better than earlier today._ I understand it will take quite the effort, but that's what it's all about. Overcoming obstacles and growing stronger in the process.

  
"At last, you're done!" Rose exclaims from her end of the corridor. "We thought you'd never finish! And so loud also. We had to force everyone out so your blasted lover's quarrel wouldn't go overheard," she jests lightly in tone but her words strike the tone of truth.

Frantically taking numerous quick steps in our direction from the other corridor's end, Jarlan finds proper footing and gives a measured and surprisingly calm response, "..Me an' Rosie won't say nothin'."

"Heh, not 'nothing'," Rose emphasises, now standing right next to us three again, conveying an idea. "Bright's suggestion wasn't bad at all, though it doesn't work with you not returning," she gestures with head towards Brash. _I guess she heard everything? **Great**_. "I'll think of something, but Mace won't let it go without a thorough investigation."

"I expect that much, if not more," Brash admits, dejected.

Rose smirks, "Anyway," clearing her throat, "the charges are already prepared and awaiting ignition."

I grimace, mulling the words over. _Charges?_

"How much time?"

"Until me and Jarlan leave the ruins," the two gesture at each other. "We will sound a quick retreat of the brigade. You'll only have a small window to take a pair of stationed horses and ride off before the detonation."

_What?!_

He nods, "Understood. You can-"

Troubled, I cut him off with a question, "Detonation? What is Rose talking about?" He turns to me and explains matter-of-factly, "Whenever a witch's den is cleared, plague charges must be set and ignited to destroy all life inside. It's common protocol."

_Oh Gods._

I cast a quick look to the door next to us, the door leading to the laboratory where Ari hides. "But.. there's.. still something of mine in there," I announce harshly. _There's **no way in hells** I'm letting her get blown to pieces or cursed by plague! Nobody deserves that disturbing fate. _Meeting the door with his own eyes, I observe a frown, "Nothing of value. Better to leave it behind and avoid becoming encumbered."

_What. The. Fuck._

I understand he doesn't care for Ari, not that I'm any different in that regard, but I could hardly live with myself, knowing my disregard for her pain caused a slow and miserable death. "I suppose," I acknowledge his point, "but we're still retrieving it. It's only a temporary encumbrance anyway," my demand prevails.

Annoyed by my neverending stubbornness, he sighs vigorously, "Fucking.. Fine, let's go get 'it' so we can leave this shithole." 

  
"By tha Gods," Jarlan's laughter mellows compared to the earlier versions as his tone turns surprisingly somber, "Look at ye two. Yer both fucked." Rose chuckles sadly, mirroring Jarlan's concern, "Agreed. I don't know what you two are planning, but this can't possibly end well for either of you."

Turning away from me and coming face to face with the two, Brash growls, "Gee, thanks for the moral fucking support, you assholes," mood sour once again. Jarlan frowns, "We're only bein' honest wit' ye, Brash. This 'ere isn't a piece a' cake ye're talkin' 'bout. Mace will want ye fer this."

Brash grimaces, "Getting to Shellshore isn't going to pose a fucking issue," suddenly revealing our plan, I can't say whether intentionally or not. "We'll manage just fine."

"Well, you better! If I hear you're getting your little lady killed, I'll have to find you and teach you some manners," Rose jests.

"Hah!" Brash mocks Rose, "You couldn't do shit, Jayden. Remember who trained you." She raises her eyebrows at the dare. "I've grown quite a bit since then, 'mister instructor'. I'll show you.. if you live more than a week on the road." 

"I'll protect him so you can have that duel, don't you worry," I grin. Rose and Jarlan both snicker at the insinuation, not aware of my skill beyond controlling speed.

"Yeah, right. Fucking hells," Brash rolls his eyes and follows with a swift sigh, "Whatever, let's just get this over with already."

  
Exchanging good-bye hugs, uncertain of if we will ever meet again, me and Brash disappear inside the laboratory. Ari's head peaks out. When we reassure her of no incoming danger, she crawls out from underneath the desk. That reassurance of course doesn't last long. Her face turns to one of terror at the revealed knowledge of her home being demolished. But there is no choice, and she knows it. Saying her last goodbyes to Rivera, she takes some of her personal affects, vials, herbs - ones I recognise as healing reagents - and a dark cloak that hangs on the wall.

Since we have no time to investigate further, we head straight towards the exit. Rose and Jarlan have already departed and are presently most likely pushing the brigade into a safe distance away from the ruins. Once we emerge from up the stairs I only barely remember from before, the forest's vastness and the air's freshness take over my mind. Nobody surrounds the ruins. Either the blast will be so strong that the retreat of the brigade matches it in capacity, or we took too long to exit the ruins and they have already left the area.

  
The following events occur in a blurry daze.

Hand pulling mine forward. Running. Twigs cracking. Heavy panting. Neighing. Arms hoisting my body. More intense, perplexed neighing. Arm locking around my waist. Shaking. Constant and continuous trembling. 

A voice finally snaps me out of it.

  
"..should be safe. We're a good distance away," comes from behind my back.

I'm sitting on a horse, right at the front of the saddle. Brash sits behind me, one arm around my waist to keep me steady, the other holding the reins. A second horse gallops next to ours to the left. Ari rides it. Her newly acquired cloak is flying behind her, secured around the neck.

Not knowing what to say or how to react to the situation, I babble, "I-I've.. never ridden a horse before."

Brash chuckles, "Doesn't come as a surprise. You look stiff as a plank. Just relax, sweetie," the hand around my waist pulls me closer to him, "I've got you." A newly recieved wet kiss rests on my exposed neck. "You can trust me."

I excuse one of my hands from vigorously clutching the saddle and put it over his arm.

"I do."

  
Reflecting on the journey, I only now realise it's been about three weeks since our departure from the camp. Four men and I took to the road, our goal being the death of Rivera. From four men. Only one remains. 

I can't say what became of Jasper or Tounnes. I can't imagine what went through Jasper's head, seeing me and Brash gone without a single word. I wonder, what did they do afterwards? Without a leader to guide them, I doubt they would ever find the correct path to the ruins. Perhaps I'll figure out what happened eventually. Or perhaps they met a horrible fate on the road at the hands of worgs. 

Not only their ends remain unknown, though. Whatever happened at the Serpent's dungeon after we were transported? What else is Sorin planning as revenge? What does Mors really expect from me? What did Kanaz want from us, or Mors, in Inferno? How far will Mace push to discover our fates? So many questions blight me. So few answers.

What began as a mission to save the kingdom concludes in a fear that the very same kingdom poses more danger than I could have ever expected. But this isn't the final conclusion just yet. Our lives hang by a thin thread. One we must protect and strengthen. Together.

  
As we ride further north, I notice just how many details escaped my attention before. 

The breeze grows cooler.

Birds sing through the forest less frequently.

The Sun burns milder.

  
I inhale the ashen smell of dying leaves.

I exhale all doubt.

  
_Autumn._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends part 3 [for real this time]. There will be part 4. I can't say when exactly. Life is getting sort of messy with all that's going around in the world, but I mostly want to take some time to figure out precisely how to approach P4. I've already got a bunch of ideas, now just to piece them together.
> 
> Anyway! Thank you so much for reaching this point and I hope you enjoyed reading!


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